


Transitions

by colorguard28



Series: Breathe [10]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Team as Family, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorguard28/pseuds/colorguard28
Summary: Team Gibbs and their extended family have been through a lot in the past year, starting with the events in Razor's Edge. But the changes are only beginning as they all find a new normal. Part 10 in the Breathe series.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee, Jimmy Palmer/Abby Sciuto, Sarah McGee/Other(s), Ziva David/Damon Werth
Series: Breathe [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/26088
Comments: 70
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Breathe is back. I’m WFH because of the coronavirus pandemic and started rewatching NCIS from the beginning, which got my plot bunnies hopping. Kyrie and Kesterpan egged me on, and this is the result. I won’t wrap up every loose end, but we will see how some of them resolve. I realize the universe’s storylines with Tony and Sean’s lungs probably resonate in a different way amid this pandemic — at least they did for me when I was re-reading Breathe to see where the team was when last we saw them — so if you want to give this a pass for now because of that, it’ll be here whenever you’re ready to dive back in.   
> This story picks up right after Finding The Way ends, but if it’s been a while since you read that, the first couple of chapters should catch you up enough to remember where everybody is in their respective plot threads. Some of the information that came out then needs to be shared among the team anyway. (If you haven’t read Breathe before, I think I can promise you’ll have time to catch up while I’m writing this one. There’s … a lot of backstory here, and a lot of familiar faces that pop back up.)   
> If you’re waiting for the final chapter of What Tangled Webs, that’s still a little ways off — I have to remember how I planned to solve that case first. ;) 
> 
> Disclaimer: NCIS and the characters belong to DPB and their other creators, and no profit is being made from their use. 

_Near midnight, Aug. 18, 2010_

As much as it had helped to talk to Damon, Ziva could not bring herself to go upstairs, even knowing Sarah was staying at her parents’ house and she would not have to explain anything to McGee’s sister. She made tea and sat at the kitchen table, refusing his offer to sit with her. Sleep would not come, and she could not make herself wish for it. Not today. Not when she knew what would happen if she closed her eyes. 

Finally, in the hours before dawn, she went upstairs long enough to shower and change, then left. She drove into the District and walked along the monuments. At each, she paused to think of the war, those who had fought and died for their country. Her country, now. She owed a responsibility to them, and to herself, to be there for the troops who now served. She could not do that until she fixed this. This was not failure, though she knew her father would disagree. It was necessary. His way of living, if that is what it could be called, was no longer hers. 

As the sky tinted a lighter blue with the coming dawn, she drove to the Navy Yard to watch the sun rise over the Anacostia. It was a new day, in every sense of the word. 

While she was still in that shape of mind — no, frame of mind — she walked into NCIS headquarters and up to the squad room. She did not want to attract attention, which meant doing her paperwork early so it was ready once Gibbs walked in. 

The forms all were online, and unlike Tony, she could type with more than two fingers. This would take very little time. Ziva got to the line “reason for requesting leave” and her fingers hesitated. No. Hesitation was a liability. It could get you killed in the field. You must — she must — press on. 

She forced her fingers to type “mental health — PTSD” and did not allow them to delete it, though she wished it were not true. She had promised Damon. She had not promised Tony, but he, too, had been thinking of her yesterday when he confronted her. 

Before she could do what she really wanted and delete the file, she forced her finger to hit “print” and heard the printer next to McGee’s desk whirr to life. 

She closed the file, and stood. It was just paper. It could not hurt her. No, she had done that to herself. 

Ziva walked across the bullpen and picked up the form she had printed, the words there in black ink where she could not remove them. 

“Agent David.” 

She looked over to see the director walking in. 

“Good morning, Director,” she said, though her hand holding the papers tightened on them, and she could feel the paper crumple. “You are in early.” 

“So are you,” Vance replied as he stopped at the nose of the bullpen, briefcase in hand. “I don’t see Gibbs, or the others. A case?” 

Ziva shook her head. Before she could change her mind, she walked over and handed him the form. “Paperwork,” she said. “Gibbs knows. I told him last night.” 

Vance scanned the form, but did not react except to raise an eyebrow. “You’re sure?” 

Ziva hesitated, then nodded. “It is not what I want, but…” She could not finish. 

“I understand.” He looked at her. “I’ll put this through immediately, and if you need the name of somebody.” 

“I … Yes. I had thought to ask Brad if he could recommend somebody, or Ducky, but I do not want to…” She hesitated. “To explain.” 

“Come upstairs with me,” Vance said. “Then you can leave before anybody else comes in, as I’m guessing you’d prefer.” 

“Especially Abby,” Ziva said as she followed him toward the staircase. “She means well, but…” 

“Yes, Miss Scuito is a force of nature when she worries about you,” Vance said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to let Gibbs handle that.” 

“Thank you, Director.” Ziva matched him step for step up the stairs. “I appreciate this.” 

Vance nodded, but said nothing until they were in his office. He reached into a drawer in his desk for a paper and wrote something down, signing it. “She works with agents and military personnel,” he said. “And David?” 

“Sir?” 

“This isn’t a favor. You’re one of the best agents we have, and it’s our responsibility to help you deal with what you’ve seen working for us.” 

“But-” Ziva did not want to say it, but she could not allow the director to believe that which was not true. “This is not from…” She could not find the words.

“I don’t know what happened to you in Somalia, or in any other Mossad mission before you became an agent,” Vance said. “It doesn’t matter. When a case brings those memories up, no matter the reason, it’s our responsibility to help.” He handed over the paper. “I’m glad you’re getting help. Your desk will be waiting when you return.” 

“Thank you,” Ziva said.

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

“So, what do we expect when we walk in this morning?” McGee asked Tony as they got in the car that morning. “Will Ziva be there?”

“I hope not,” Tony said as he pulled out. “Based on what Damon told you yesterday, and what happened when I tried to talk to her, she needs to take a break and deal with this.”

McGee looked over at his husband as he drove toward the Navy Yard. “The king of dodging psych evals thinks Ziva should get help? That says a lot.” 

“Hey, I go to a therapist.” 

McGee decided not to comment on how long it had taken Tony to get to that point. At least he had done it, and now, so was Ziva. “Ziva will still be in this morning, if only to put in paperwork. We should grab breakfast. Remind her we’re still around for her, even if she won’t be at work.”

“Sounds more like a reason for a food delivery to the house, like the ones everybody made when they were telling us they knew we’d been sneaking around,” Tony said. “But we’ll start small: Breakfast burrito and that smoothie she likes for our little assassin.” 

The stop didn’t take long, but when they walked into the bullpen, Ziva was not only there, she was coming down the stairs from the upper level.

“MTAC?” McGee asked. 

“Vance,” Tony said. “Which means our fearless leader must be—” 

McGee didn’t even bother to turn around. “You’re standing right behind us, aren’t you, Boss,” he said. 

The pair of head-slaps were a weird sign that it was going to be a normal day. Whatever one of those was. 

“Breakfast?” McGee said, holding out a burrito to the Boss. 

Tony said nothing, just handed Gibbs the dark-roast drip they’d picked up, then set the smoothie on Ziva’s desk. 

“ _Toda_ ,” she said as she joined them, her face pale — well, pale for her — with dark circles under her eyes. McGee passed over the burrito — extra peppers, just the way she liked it. 

“You did not have to-” she started. 

“We wanted to,” McGee said, his voice quiet. Tony and Gibbs seemed to take the hint and stepped away. “Ziva, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day. I didn’t mean to.” He made sure to keep the desk between them so she wouldn’t feel cornered. “I shouldn’t have-” 

“McGee, you do not need to apologize,” Ziva said. 

“It’s not a sign of weakness, not in this case,” he replied. 

She smiled, a small one, but a real smile. “No, that is not… You helped us solve the case. You could not have known.”

McGee waited until she looked up at him. “I don’t hurt Tony,” he said. “Well, not unless he Superglues me to my keyboard again.” He grinned to show he wasn’t serious, and was glad to hear Ziva laugh, that they could still make jokes. “You don’t have to be OK with what Abby likes to do in bed, with me or Jimmy or anybody. Abby’s not you, and you’re not Abby.” 

“I know,” Ziva said. “But I do need to be able to live with myself, and until I can do that, I am not fine. No matter what I have said before.” She hesitated. “I cannot promise I will be there soon, but I think I can promise I will get there. And I will say something next time I am bothered.” 

“Good,” McGee said. “That’s good, Ziva.” He brought up the elephant in the room. “Do you want us to switch houses again, so you aren’t in the same house as Damon. You and Sarah could move back to your place and Tony and I could share with Damon.” 

“No!” She shook her head. “No, Damon is not the problem.” She pressed her lips together, as if she was trying not to add anything. 

“If it’s not-” 

But Ziva held up her hand before he could say anything else. “Please, ask Damon. Tell him I said it was all right to tell you. I…” She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “I am not ready to say it again, but I think you should know.”

“Just me?” McGee asked. 

“You and Tony can tell the others,” Ziva said. “I trust you to know who should hear what, once Damon explains it, and I do not wish to have the conversation again.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Tony followed Gibbs over to the windows. “Boss, I’m going to head Josh off downstairs, fill him in on the basics,” he said. 

Gibbs just looked at him. 

“Yes, I know next week is his last week before law school, but I have a feeling he’s going to be around for a while,” Tony said. 

“Sarah?” Gibbs asked. 

“They’re not dating, but they’re definitely friendly, and her coffee shop is near his apartment,” Tony said. “McBaby hasn’t scared him off, which says a lot.” 

“Go.” 

Tony headed downstairs and stationed himself outside headquarters. When he spotted Josh, he walked over. 

“What’s wrong?” Josh asked, as Tony pointed him over toward the Barry. 

“Not wrong,” Tony said. “Just not something that needs to be said upstairs.” 

“Is this about Sarah?” 

“Not unless you’ve done something we don’t know about, and in that case, I think I’d have to wait in line.”

“No!” Josh said, his face horrified. “I swear.” 

“Relax,” Tony said. “It’s not Sarah, it’s Ziva.” 

“Ziva?” 

Tony explained about the leave of absence. 

“That’s…” Josh’s expression reminded Tony of when they first met. 

“You know how you told me your dad was a big fan of Princeton,” Tony said. 

Josh nodded. 

“War is hell. Terrorists are worse. Your father, I’m guessing, wanted to protect you from that.” 

“That’s because he was my dad,” Josh said. 

Tony laughed, because really, what was the other option. “Not every father is like yours,” he said. “Ziva, well, let’s just say hers is a particularly unusual one.” 

“You’re not going to tell me why.” 

Good, the kid had learned something. “Not my story to tell, and not one you should ask Ziva about either. If you’re around this weird family of ours for a while, you’ll get the basics eventually.” 

“My internship is almost over,” Josh said. 

“You really think next week is the last time you’ll see any of us.” Tony snorted. 

“Well, no. Not really.” 

“It’s not a secret. Pretty much everybody knows something, even if McGee’s parents only know bits and pieces. But it’s a story for another day.” 

“Jimmy told me about Evil Josh, at my first Game Night,” Josh said. “Not a lot, just enough to understand why Sarah turned white when she heard my name.” 

“That’s how we do things,” Tony said. “It’s a different kind of need to know, and when you do, you will.” 

“So, what’s going to happen with Ziva off?” Josh asked. 

“Vance will probably assign Dwayne Wilson TAD, like he did when McGoogle was out with his bum wing,” Tony said, heading back toward the NCIS building. “The list of people who can handle being on Gibbs’ team is pretty short.” 

“I can see that,” Josh said. “He reminds me of some of the Marines my dad knew.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ziva left with her plant, most of her things tucked into a desk drawer, while Tony was outside. 

McGee sifted through phone records for one of the cold cases he thought he could make some headway on while he waited to see if Vance was sitting them for the rest of the week or not. 

When he saw Vance and Gibbs over by Jenkins’ desk in the next row, McGee wished he could-

“Really?” Jenkins stood. “Again?” 

“Jenkins, Gibbs, my office,” Vance said, his face grim. 

As the team leaders headed toward the stairs, Vance said something to Dwayne, then caught up to Gibbs and Jenkins. McGee wasn’t surprised to see Dwayne walk over once the others were upstairs. 

“You TAD with us?” he asked the younger agent. 

“So Vance said,” Dwayne replied. “Jenkins is not happy.” 

“He’s up against Gibbs and Vance. He’s going to have to get used to it,” McGee said, unable to resist a smirk. “You don’t mind helping us out?” 

“You certainly get interesting cases,” Dwayne said. “It’s always an experience working with you guys.” 

“And why is it you always get that spot?” The new voice was snarkier than Tony on his best days. “What makes you so special?” 

“Agent Krone,” McGee said, suppressing an eye roll at the agent’s appearance near his desk. “Dwayne’s worked with us before. It’s hardly surprising that he would be Vance’s first choice this time, especially since the Cold Case unit is, by definition, not working on hot cases.” 

“First choice for what?” Krone said. “All three of Gibbs’ loyal lapdogs are here today — you, DiNozzo, David. Why do you need a fourth?”

“You seem pretty interested in the MCRT,” McGee said. “Now why is that exactly?” He kept his gaze on Krone. After seven years working for Gibbs, he knew just what would happen. Sure enough Krone looked away first, and left, muttering under his breath. 

“What’s his problem?” Dwayne asked, his voice low. 

“He wants on Team Gibbs, which is stupid, because Gibbs would chew him up and spit him out by the end of his first day,” McGee said. “He was bucking for my spot when I was out on medical.” 

“Should I be worried?” Dwayne asked. 

McGee shook his head. “He’s all bark. Even Jimmy could scare him off if we really wanted to shut him up.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Once the three men were in his office, Vance sat at his desk and looked at the two team leaders. “You have a problem with my decision?” he asked. 

“I’m having a little trouble sorting out your priorities, Director,” Jenkins said. “You’re pushing everybody to dig into cold cases because you say we have too many, but you just took the brightest young agent on my team — again — and handed him over to Gibbs for who knows how long.” 

“I did,” Vance said. “As the director, that’s my right, to assign agents as I see fit.” 

“Then don’t expect us to solve as many cases while we’re a man down,” Jenkins said. “Or is that your plan, to make me look bad when I’m only months away from full retirement?”

“Nothing is going to affect your retirement or your status at this agency,” Vance said. “Think of the cold case competition as a chance for me to scout for talent. Cold Cases will need a new member after you retire, and I want to see who has the skill set to tackle those kinds of problems.” 

“And Wilson?” Jenkins asked. 

“He’s survived two stints working for Gibbs without threatening to either quit or shoot him,” Vance said. “As I recall, McGee and Paula Cassidy are the only other agents in that category. McGee’s on the team already.” 

“And Cassidy’s dead, I know.” Jenkins frowned. “I don’t like it, but fine. Your call.”

“Yes, it is.” Vance looked at both men. “You want to sit in this chair, you’re going to have a long wait. Until then, my seat, my call.”

Jenkins left, but Gibbs didn’t follow. Vance wondered why that even surprised him anymore. 

“You need something else?” 

“Cold case competition.” Gibbs didn’t say anything else, but what else could he expect from the man. 

Vance looked at the biggest pain in his ass at the agency. “You think I’m not being forthcoming, Gibbs?” he finally asked. 

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow. 

Vance waited for him to say more, then remembered who he was dealing with. He hit the button to make the room a SCIF. 

“That bad?” Gibbs asked. 

“I’ve been reviewing the files,” Vance said. 

“Not my team’s.” 

“No. Cold cases. You don’t have many of those. Some teams can’t say the same.” Vance weighed how much to give up. “That’s not what I want from my agency.” 

“What’s the end game, Leon?” Gibbs still stood straight, but relaxed. Vance felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. He might be a pain in the ass, but things went better when Gibbs was on board. 

“We close cases, give the people involved closure, and see what we missed the first time.” Vance got up and walked over to the wall of boxing photos. “Rest assured, this won’t impact my plan to give DiNozzo the Cold Case team in January.” 

“He know that?” 

“He should. If you hear otherwise, send him up.” Vance turned back toward Gibbs. “If I’m right, some of these cases could have been solved the first time.”

“You think somebody screwed the pooch.” Gibbs smirked. “You’re getting all the agents to prove it by solving the cases.” 

“Work Wilson into your team, allow them all to work cold cases when you don’t have a hot one, and let me worry about the rest,” Vance said. “Your team’s had a challenging year. You’ve handled it well. Keep doing that and we won’t have a problem.” 

Gibbs just nodded and left. Vance knew better than to think the conversation was over, but he’d let Gibbs gnaw on the bone he’d tossed him for a while before briefing him further. By then, he’d have a target. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and reviews. I wasn’t sure what to expect since Breathe has been on hiatus for so long and is almost another world as far as the show is concerned (and not just in the T-Squared sense of the phrase). I think I’ll be posting twice a week, but probably not on set days because my work schedule is fluctuating a bit because we have a weekend rotation. 

McGee left Dwayne in the bullpen getting caught up on where the MCRT was on cases and headed for the lab. He could hear chatter even with Abby’s music playing. At least he wouldn’t have to find Jimmy, too. 

They were in Abby’s inner office, sitting at the steel table with breakfast and file folders scattered between them. 

“Cold cases?” McGee asked as he walked in. 

“Leon didn’t say only agents could be part of the competition,” Abby said. “Unless we have a case. Do we have a case?” 

McGee shook his head. “No, and probably not today.”

“Why? You know something, Timmy,” Abby said. 

“Ziva’s taking some time off,” McGee said. 

“She’s what? Why? Because of—” He put a finger on Abby’s lips to stop her. 

“Abbs, I don’t know. I really don’t.” 

“Timmy, we need to-”

“Abby.” He gave her the look he knew would show he was serious. 

“But-” 

“She asked me to get details from Damon. She said Tony and I would know who should know what after we talked to him. That’s all I know.” 

“That… sounds ominous,” Jimmy said. 

McGee thought back over Ziva’s words. “Not bad so much as … she thinks some people need to know details.” He looked at Abby. “If you do, we’ll tell you, Abbs, but if not.” 

“I know,” she said. “I trust you, Timmy. And Ziva must, too. But-” 

“Abbs, give her some space,” McGee said. “When she’s ready for Abby-hugs, she’ll let us know. Or Damon will.” 

“But-” 

“Abby, he’s right,” Jimmy said. 

“Look, we’ll talk to Damon today and figure out what’s going on,” McGee said. “For now—”

“Right, cold cases,” Jimmy said. When Abby let her fiance change the subject, McGee knew the forensic scientist was as concerned as the rest of them. 

“So, why are you both working on them?” McGee said. “Vance said we’re not supposed to work together.” 

“Oh, no, we’re not breaking the rules,” Jimmy was quick to assure him. 

“Jimmy’s right,” Abby said. “Leon said we weren’t supposed to work together on solving the cases. He didn’t say anything about triaging them.” 

McGee knew he had to be making what Tony called his McEyebrow face, but he didn’t care. “You want to explain that one?” 

“Well, cold cases are cold for a reason,” Abby said. “Either there wasn’t enough evidence, or it didn’t point someplace, or there was a mistake, or the evidence couldn’t be turned into clues toward the dirtbag because the science didn’t allow it, even though that’s changed now, which means some of these might be solvable, but not all of them.” 

“And you two are sorting through the available cases to figure out which cases are which so you know which ones you might be able to turn into hot cases,” McGee said. 

“Exactly,” Jimmy said. “And that is  _ not _ against the rules.” 

“It’s a good way to look at it,” McGee said. 

“We’re also looking at who has reviewed the cases,” Abby said. “Not that all agents aren’t good, but…”

McGee rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like Agent Krone.” 

“Is he starting up again?” Jimmy asked. “Dr. Mallard was not happy with some of the comments he made while you were out on medical.” 

“Oh, he’s starting,” McGee said. “He gave Dwayne a hard time after Vance got him TAD to us while Ziva’s out, wanted to know why other agents couldn’t have the chance.” 

“Because Gibbs would kill them, duh,” Abby said. “Or headslap them into the Anacostia.” 

  
  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Ziva rolled down her car windows as she waited for the air conditioning to cool off her car. Even after five years, she still could not get used to the humidity that blanketed the city every summer, so different from the desert heat she was accustomed to. 

Even her peace lily was wilting a bit in the damp heat. She had thought it the perfect plant for her desk when she became an agent, but now it seemed to mock her just a bit. Who was she to think she deserved peace? 

Damon’s words from the night before came back to her. She did not need to deserve love to get it, he had said. Perhaps the same was true of peace? Or perhaps the destruction of peace was the price she had to pay for leaving her father’s orbit, where Eli could not — again — hurt her. 

She rolled up the windows, allowing the cool air to surround her. She did deserve peace, at least enough peace to live her new life, the one she had chosen. Ziva pulled out the number the director had given her and dialed before she could talk herself out of it. Do not think. Just do. Thinking would only make it harder. 

And still, when the person on the other end of the phone answered, Ziva had to force the words from her mouth. Had to push away the fear, as surely as she had done on missions in the past. She could do this. She must do this. 

When she disconnected, an appointment scheduled for that afternoon, she slumped back against the car seat. Her hands trembled, and she felt wrung up — no, out. She had done it. 

Now, she needed to go home. While nobody was there to see her. Her body needed fuel, and some rest if possible. Otherwise she would not be able to function. 

When she pulled into the driveway, it was empty. She opened the side door and was greeted with eighty pounds of German shepherd. 

“Yes, you want to go outside, don’t you,” she said, and took his collar to lead him into the fenced back yard. “Go, play.” She locked the gate, then went inside. Most of the shades were down, and she could hear the low hum of the air conditioning, keeping the house at a tolerable level. 

Ziva found a peach in the refrigerator and decided that was enough for right now. The fruit oozed juice down her chin as she took a bite and she was reminded of summers in Israel, eating apricots Aunt Nettie handed them as she shooed them outside. They were three then: Ari, Tali and her. First Tali was gone. Then Ari. Now only she remained, and Israel was a place she never planned to return to. She did not know if she would see Aunt Nettie again. She knew she would not see Eli. Not unless he wanted to see her, and he must not. He could not care about her, or he would not have left her in Somalia. 

She would not think about that. Not now. She threw out the pit and washed her hands, then went upstairs. 

The pile of sheets on her bed smelled fresh, and she reminded herself to thank Damon when she saw him. Folding the crisp cotton in half, and half again, over and over, was what she needed, something to smooth her mind. 

She took the sheets to her dresser to put away and only then saw the envelope on her gun safe. She had left her service weapon at the office — regulations, since she was on leave — and had not been carrying her backup today. 

Damon’s handwriting was unmistakable, and Ziva hesitated, then set the envelope aside. Not now. Perhaps after her appointment she could find the courage to open it, but right now, no. Damon had a habit of being gentle just when that was the one thing that might break her into small pieces, and she could not — would not — risk that when she did not know what to expect from this appointment. 

Tonight, she promised herself. Tonight she might need something gentle. For now, she must stay strong and push on. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Sarah shifted on her feet as the clock seemed to take forever to cover the last thirty minutes until the end of her work day. Her back ached, her sneakers were tight on her feet, which meant they were swollen — again — and the 15 minutes she’d spent talking to Josh during her break and his stop before heading into NCIS felt like a month ago. 

When she was able to clock out, she almost groaned when she saw the backpack of her things. She’d managed to forget that she had two days worth of dirty clothes, plus a few things her mom had sent her home with when she dropped her at work this morning. Her mother had said she could drop them off at the house she shared with Ziva and Damon, but Sarah had refused. That was stupid. Now she had to lug the backpack on the Metro. 

By the time she walked the two blocks to the Metro, her shirt was sticking to her back, soaked, and her feet hurt more than anything, except maybe her back. 

When she got on the subway car, a cute guy looked at her. “Here, take my seat,” he said, standing. 

Sarah sank into it, setting her backpack on the floor between her feet. She felt fat and awkward and now she was clearly enough of both that cute guys saw her as that pregnant lady they needed to be nice to, not a cute girl to flirt with. 

She ignored the little voice in her head reminding her that Josh was happy to flirt when she felt like it. 

The air conditioning on the Metro was broken — again — and she was a soggy mess by the time she got off the train, and she still had to walk three blocks to the house. Ugh. At least she’d be the only one home and she could have a long, cool shower. 

Except Ziva’s Mini Cooper was in the driveway when she got home. That was weird. The team didn’t have a hot case yesterday to keep them late — Gibbs and her mom had spent an hour after dinner yesterday shooting hoops — so why was she home now? 

She walked and practically groaned with relief when she was able to drop the backpack at the foot of the stairs. Sarah heard noises in the kitchen, so left her backpack for now and wandered back to find out why Ziva was home. 

Her friend was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. 

“I did not realize it was so late already,” Ziva said as Sarah entered. She checked her watch. 

“Is everything all right?” Sarah asked as she headed to the fridge to get a glass of ice water from the pitcher they kept there. “You’re home early.” She froze. “It’s not- Somebody’s not hurt-”

“No!” Ziva answered before she could even finish the sentence. “No, I am—” She paused. 

“You’re what?” 

Ziva looked down at her hands, then up at Sarah. “I am taking leave from NCIS. I have… an appointment in an hour.”

“What kind of appointment?” Sarah asked. “You’re not hurt?” 

Ziva shook her head. “No. It is…” She took a breath. “I am going to see somebody, for the nightmares.” 

“You don’t seem like the type to go to therapy,” Sarah said. 

“You are right,” Ziva replied. “I am not. But this time, I must. If I do not wish to become what my father intended, I must do this. For me.” She stood and put her plate in the sink. “There is a salad in the refrigerator, enough for a meal if you and Damon wish.” 

“Not you?” 

“I do not know that I will feel like eating,” Ziva replied. She walked out of the kitchen before Sarah could figure out what to say. 

Sarah stared after Ziva, and wondered what could be so bad, after everything she’d heard about the team going through, that Ziva would take leave. And then she wondered if she wanted to know. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When McGee walked into the bullpen after leaving Abby’s lab, Tony and Josh were there with Dwayne, but there was no sign of Gibbs. 

“Boss go for coffee?” he asked. 

Tony shrugged, but in a rare moment, didn’t comment. 

“He walked back after he came down from Vance’s office, but didn’t stop,” Dwayne said. 

“Jimmy and Abby had an idea,” McGee said. He motioned for Dwayne and Josh to join him over by Tony’s desk. 

“They have lots of ideas, McGiggles,” Tony said. “Most of them aren’t fit for delicate ears.” 

“But fine for yours, of course,” McGee retorted, unable to resist a snicker. He lowered his voice. “No, this is about the cold case competition.” 

“Why are we whispering?” Tony asked. 

“Because Jenkins is  _ not _ happy that I’m over here. He’s not crazy about Vance’s competition, either,” Dwayne said. 

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that,” Tony said. “What’s with that?”

“Go ask him and see if he tells you,” McGee said. 

“Yes, because I have a death wish,” Tony said. “So, what don’t we want Jenkins to hear?”

“More like what we don’t want Krone to hear,” McGee said. “Abby and Jimmy had a really good thought about the competition.” He outlined Abby’s grouping of the cases in different categories. “We didn’t solve Petty Officer Curtin’s case until the cell phone records turned up.” 

“They never looked deeply enough the first time to find those,” Tony said. “Remember Voss. Pacci followed the money, but it took Ducky and Abby catching the faked lab test to solve that one.” 

“Right, and what about that mummy case you guys caught a few weeks before the first time I met you guys,” McGee said. “That was a sloppy investigation from everything Abby told me.”

“Abby told you-” Tony cut himself off. “Right, curse of the mummy. Of course she told you.” 

“A curse?” Josh asked. 

“Don’t ask me,” Dwayne replied. “They lost me at the petty officer and the cell phone records.” 

“Campfire!” Tony said, moving his chair so they could sit in a circle. “McGee, you’re saying we should look for cases we’re each uniquely suited to solve, based on whatever reasons they went cold in the first place.” 

“And if we see one that somebody else on the team might be able to crack, pass it off to them,” McGee said. 

“What does that mean?” Dwayne asked. “I mean, I know what kind of cases McGee, Abby and Jimmy are good at. But I’m just a regular agent.” 

“You were a Marine,” Tony said. “NCIS is civilian. You might see something we would miss because of your experience.” 

“Like the Quantico bank robbery,” Dwayne said. 

“What about me?” Josh asked. “What should I be doing? Usually I shadow one of you, but I can’t really do that if Vance says this has to be solo.” 

McGee saw Tony’s eyes slowly unfocus and gave his husband a minute to see what the weird connections in his brain would spit out. Sure enough after about 30 seconds, Tony grinned and motioned for them to lean in closer. 

“Look, we think Vance has an ulterior motive,” he said. 

“Doesn’t he always?” McGee said. 

“Don’t be so McCynical, Tim,” Tony replied. “Josh, remember the analysis thingys you were doing back when we were chasing the cartel?”

“Vectors and networks, yeah,” Josh said. 

“Get McGee to show you how to pull information on casefiles, and do that for those,” Tony said. “Look for patterns.” 

McGee almost headslapped himself for not thinking of it. “Of course. The metadata has information on investigating agents, types of crimes, who’s opened the files, all the types of things that might tell us if there’s something about the cold cases overall that Vance is interested in.” 

Josh hesitated. “I can’t get in trouble for this, can I?” 

“No,” Tony and McGee said at the same time as Dwayne said “Yes?” 

“Josh, don’t worry,” McGee said. “You’re covered under my get-out-of-jail-free card.” 

“It’s the jail part of that I’m worried about,” Josh said. 

Tony waved a hand at the intern. “Vance and Gibbs have this wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing. We get results and what Vance doesn’t officially know about him doesn’t hurt him or us.” 

“Come on,” McGee said. “Before Gibbs walks in and says ‘Grab your gear.’” He looked around. “Weird. He usually walks just in time to actually say that.” 

After showing Josh how to access casefile metadata, McGee remembered Ziva’s request earlier and texted Damon to see when he was free to meet them.

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Normally Damon hated the days he was plowing through paperwork instead of meeting with returning troops who needed the Wounded Warriors’ help, but today the paperwork was a good distraction from worrying about Ziva. 

He’d never really gone to sleep after she went upstairs early this morning, but he hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable either, so he’d stayed in his room until he heard her leave. 

He checked the clock. Quarter past ten, and still no word. She could still be trying to get approval. The stacks of paperwork on his desk were evidence of how hard that could be. 

The chirp of his phone interrupted his thoughts. Damon looked down to see a text … from McGee? 

_ Z asked us to get whole story from you. Coffee after work?  _

Coffee? This conversation needed more than that. Damon replied  _ Your place? I’ll bring beer. _

_ I am not telling Tony you think this conversation needs beer  _ arrived almost immediately, followed by  _ Cold cases today, at least so far. 6:30? _

Once the arrangements were set, Damon gladly turned back to his paperwork. Anything to delay figuring out how exactly to tell Tony and McGee what Ziva had told him when it hurt just remembering the look on her face as she told him everything that happened in Somalia. 

At least it would be an excuse to delay going home to the house he was sharing with Ziva and Sarah. Maybe by then, Ziva would be asleep, or at least upstairs. Sarah almost certainly would be, even if it was on the couch because she drifted off watching TV. 

Oh, shit. Sarah would be there. That was… Damon cursed. After last night, knowing everything, that was going to be a problem. Ziva wouldn’t say anything, not after everything Sarah had gone through to this point, but their Island of Traumatized Toys now seemed less like a good solution to Gibbs’ Mexico problem and more like a recipe for disaster. 

For now, one thing at a time. Figure out how to tell Tony and McGee, then worry about where everybody would live. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

“Dwayne, with me,” Tony said, heading for the back elevator. 

“Evidence locker?” Dwayne asked as the doors closed. 

“Abby’s lab.” 

“Because she and Jimmy might have some cases already for us?” Dwayne asked. 

Tony smiled. Good, the kid was getting it. “Our Mistress of the Dark probably already has them sorted into mail bins.” He looked at Dwayne. “So, why aren’t we going to the evidence locker?” 

Dwayne was silent for a few seconds. “Because Abby might already have cases we can start on?” 

“And?” Tony hoped the training from the kid’s first stint on Team Gibbs had held. 

“Because if we think there’s a bigger something, we don’t want to start pulling cases and show our hand too early, maybe tip somebody off.” 

“Precisely,” Tony said. “Not that we could tip them off since we don’t know what the director’s fishing for, but I also don’t want us to be chum if we pull the wrong case.” 

They got off the elevator as Dwayne said, “Pulling the wrong case implies there’s a right case to pull.” 

“Days like today, it feels more like strings are getting pulled, and I’d like to make sure they’re not ours.” Tony snagged Abby’s remote from the top of the file cabinet and lowered the music volume, and the forensic scientist spun around to face them. 

“Abbs, McGee filled us in.”

“On what?” she said. “I’ve got like nine different tests running on various kinds of evidence, but I haven’t gotten a single—” She broke off. 

“What is it?” Dwayne asked. 

“I don’t hear a ding,” Tony replied. 

“Yes, and that’s weird,” Abby said. “Usually you guys come in here right as my babies ding.” 

“Even on cold cases?” Dwayne said. 

“Well, no,” Abby frowned. “So, why are you here?” 

“Cold cases,” Tony said, and managed not to flinch when she punched him in the shoulder. “Hey!”

“Why are you here?” 

“Well, it was to see if you had ID’d any cold cases we might want to look at, but that was before you got mad,” Tony said. “Abby, what’s wrong?”

“Ziva’s on leave, we have cold cases that Leon wants us to make hot ones, and Gibbs still hasn’t brought me a Caf-Pow, which only happens on days things go really, really wrong,” Abby said. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

Tony stood in front of Abby and put his hands on her shoulders. “Abby, nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing that we didn’t know about before today.” He looked her in the eye and waited for her to nod. “Gibbs and Jenkins got called to the principal’s office and then Gibbs left, probably to get his coffee and your-” 

“Gibbs!” Abby pulled away. 

Sure enough, the Boss was walking in, Caf-Pow in one hand, coffee in the other. 

“We’re just down here checking on cold cases, Boss,” Tony said. “Unless we have a hot one?” When Gibbs didn’t reply, Tony nodded. “No hot cases. Back to the bullpen to work on cold ones then.” He headed for the door, Dwayne on his heels. 

Once they were in the elevator, Dwayne asked, “So what was the point of that trip? We still don’t have any cases from Abby.” 

“Then let’s see if Josh and McGeek have something,” Tony said. 

As they walked in the bullpen, McGee looked up. “Abby just emailed us a bunch of files, organized the way we talked about,” he said. 

“Then let’s start looking,” Tony said. 

He dropped into his chair and logged on to his email. Nine new emails. No, ten. The newest one was a master list of the cases. Four for McGee, three for him, two for Dwayne, plus another eight Abby had tagged for either her, Jimmy or Ducky to look at. 

“Gibbs is in the lab,” Tony said. “Let’s see if we can find something before he shows up wanting to know why we’re goofing off.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Tim said. “I’m already running searches.” 

“OK, McBrownnoser,” Tony replied. 

An IM window popped up. 

**_Elflord:_ ** _ Damon’s coming over at 6:30 to fill us in. Ziva said he could tell us, she didn’t want to go through it again.  _

**_MovieBuff:_ ** _ Fantastic _

**_Elflord:_ ** _ It’s not his fault. _

**_MovieBuff:_ ** _ It’s not yours, either.  _

**_Elflord:_ ** _ Ziva already said that. _

**_MovieBuff:_ ** _ We both know whose fault it is. _

**_Elflord:_ ** _ You are not going to Israel again.  _

**_MovieBuff:_ ** _ Doesn’t mean I can’t think about it. _

**_Elflord:_ ** _ Focus. On the case. Cases. How many cases?  _

**_MovieBuff:_ ** _ Now who needs to focus? Cases first, then Damon. Then we figure out how to fix this. _

Tony decided to take his own advice and waded into the cases files Abby had sent them. One embezzlement at Dam Neck, money never recovered. Serial robberies in the base housing at Norfolk, four suspects, none with solid alibis, but also no evidence. Three deaths, all suspicious, one suspect, but the case agent had never gotten either enough evidence or a confession and so never charged the sailor. 

Murder was always more fun than robbery. Tony started reading through the evidence logs, looking for something the case agents might have missed. 

“Tony, if you don’t stop with the pencil, it’s going to be a race to see who takes it and breaks it first.” 

Tony looked up to see McCranky scowling at him. “What?”

“You’re tapping your pencil and I don’t care, but Gibbs just glared at you and left, so if you value your life-” 

Tony cut off McGee. “Or the life of my pencil, yes, I’ll stop.” 

“Thank you,” Dwayne said. “If Gibbs glared any harder he would have vaporized you.” 

Tony scoffed. “That’s not his superpower. Sure, he’ll terrorize a dirtbag with that flinty stare, but he can’t actually hurt you by looking at you.” Tony stopped. “You’re right behind me, aren’t you, Boss?” 

“Looking at you,” Gibbs said. He walked back into the bullpen. “So, what have we got?”

“Possible multiple murderer,” Tony said, sending his screen to the plasma. “Three dead, all female dependents, all in their late teens. Initial rulings were suicide, but Pacci flagged them because they all had a connection to the same sailor, Seaman Richard Dawes. He ran down some leads, but then he got the call about Amanda Reeve buying the Voss townhouse.”

McGee started tapping on his computer. “Dawes is still in the Navy, a petty officer stationed in Anacostia. Clean record.” 

“Maybe he’s just never been caught,” Tony said. 

“I thought I was clear,” Vance interrupted from his position on the landing behind the bullpen. “If you’re bringing the rest of your team in on a cold case, I need to be notified.” 

“You’re notified,” Gibbs said. “DiNozzo-”

“Look at Dawes’ record before the Navy, find friends and family, see if there were any other cases before he joined.” Tony sat and picked up the phone.

“McGee-” 

“Run a search for similar cases in all the areas around Dawes’ different postings during the time he was there, see if there are other cases out there we can link to him.” McGee started typing hard enough Tony could practically feel it. 

“Wilson, with me,” Gibbs said. “Cooper-”

“Boss, I’ve got Josh working on something already,” McGee said. 

“Cooper, stay,” Gibbs said. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


After both team leaders left his office, Vance put David’s paperwork through, and flagged it as a high priority. Wilson was coming along as an agent, but his skill set mirrored DiNozzo’s. That was his justification if anybody asked. The MCRT needed David back on the team for the good of the agency. 

Vance looked to his roster of agents to see who he could pull into headquarters long term. Between David’s leave and Jenkins’ upcoming retirement, he needed another experienced agent, somebody who could fill in for now and be induced to stay after all the changes he expected in the next few months. 

Vance started looking down the list of Agent Afloat postings. One name jumped out, but he knew that wasn’t going to be an easy sell. Burley didn’t have any interest in headquarters. 

San Diego? Seattle? No, Hetty had already culled the best West Coast agents for OSP, and backfilling that gap was just bearing fruit. 

Europe? If he needed a team leader, he could make changes in Rota, but that wasn’t what he needed. Yet. 

Midwest? There was that one agent out of Chicago, but something about her... No, more seasoning, maybe on one of the regional teams. 

South? No, most of those agents were there by choice and would resist orders to headquarters. 

Burley was the best choice, but he’d already pushed back the last time he’d been in town for McGee’s training course. 

Vance set the problem aside and focused on the case files that needed approval before being sent on to JAG. 

Still, Burley’s name kept returning to the forefront. Maybe he needed to think about this differently. What would it take to get Burley to agree to six months in DC? 

That puzzle kept him occupied until a text message broke his concentration. Vance looked at it, just three words, and made his choice. Definitely Burley. Willingly if possible, under order if that was the only way. He needed agents he could depend on to keep the ship on course amid rocky seas. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t had a chance to go back and read Finding the Way, or if you haven’t read it in a long time, you should be caught up on the main things you need to know by the end of this chapter.

“Dawes,” Gibbs said to Wilson as he pulled the Charger out of the Navy Yard. 

“Petty officer at Anacostia, in the supply depot,” Wilson said. “Up for promotion next year, clean record.”

“Background?” 

“Based on the files Tony pulled, looks like he enlisted at 18, originally from Connecticut. It’s an area where you’re more likely to see a kid go to an Ivy League school than enlist, which suggests he might not have been the strongest student,” Wilson said. “If he just wanted to serve, he probably would have gone ROTC someplace.” 

Gibbs nodded. Good deduction on Wilson’s part. Kid was learning. “Tours?” 

“Two on carriers, one in the Sea of Japan, one in the Med. He’s worked supply at Mayport, Coronado, Great Lakes, Rota, Dam Neck, Pearl, New London, Gulfport, Naples and now Anacostia.” Wilson read them off quickly. 

“Ten bases?” Gibbs asked. 

“Yeah, that’s…” Wilson paused. “That’s more than normal for a petty officer with 16 years experience.” 

“Plus tours,” Gibbs said. 

“Two tours, so between a year and 18 months for those, plus boot and A School, leaves him at…” Wilson must have been doing the math in his head. “An average 16 months per station.” 

“Clean record?” Gibbs asked. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t match all those reassignments,” Wilson said. He pulled out his phone and by the time Gibbs pulled into the guest lot at Anacostia, Wilson was done talking to DiNozzo.

“What’ve we got?” Gibbs asked. 

“Not much, at least not yet,” Wilson said. “Tony and McGee are going to dig deeper into the timeline around his postings, though, see if there are any open cases that fit the pattern of the ones we already know about.”

Gibbs thought for a minute. “How long’s he been here?” 

Wilson checked the file. “Looks like a year last month.” 

“Let’s find his CO, see if he’s started to wear out his welcome.” Gibbs headed toward the building the security guards at the gate had directed him to. 

  
  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


“Requisition forms already, Mr. Palmer?” Ducky asked as he walked into Autopsy that morning. 

“No, should I be working on those?” Jimmy asked. “Because these are cold cases, so if we need to do requisitions-”

“No, no, not at all,” Ducky replied. “Infernal things can wait until another day. I merely thought the stacks of folders you have were the beginnings of that monstrosity.” He lay his fedora on top of the coat rack, unbuttoned his cuffs, and started rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Paperwork is never pleasant, but since this is not paperwork...” He let his voice trail away in a question, then listened as young Mr. Palmer explained the idea he and Abby were exploring. 

“That, Mr. Palmer, is excellent logic,” Ducky said. “So these cases?” 

“Are all ones where you weren’t the ME,” Jimmy said. “And of course, the ones with bodies. Because if there aren’t any bodies, we don’t have anything that might help. I mean, not that your psychological autopsies don’t help, but-” 

“Yes, quite right,” Ducky said. “Best to wait on the psychological excavations until we have dealt with the more prosaic cases.” He pulled a stool over to the steel table. “So, which pile should I start with?” 

Jimmy pointed to the taller stack. “Those are all the files where NCIS didn’t do the autopsy,” he said. “Most are local medical examiners or coroners, but a few are FBI or other agencies.” He patted the top of the other stack. “These are cases where there was a military autopsy, but it was done by somebody else, either in another location, or by another medical examiner.” 

“Yes, we used to have two here,” Ducky said. “I started when Dr. Walter Magness was the ME. Quite a nice fellow, and very knowledgeable. After he retired in 2000, they promoted me and filled the position, but after 9/11, the Navy moved that position over to be shared between Bethesda and Dover, as they needed additional medical examiners. Since then, I’ve made do with just an assistant, first Gerald, and now you.”

“Which stack do you want, Dr. Mallard?” Jimmy asked. 

“Why don’t you start with the outside agencies,” Ducky said. “I’ll review the military cases, but I don’t expect we’ll have as much luck there. If they had thought a body might provide more evidence, they would have sent it to us in the first place.” 

  
  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


“Hey, Tim, have you worked your McGoogle magic and found any other cases that connect to our potentially murderous petty officer?” Tony asked. 

“Still searching,” McGee replied. “How about before he joined the Navy?”

“Hard to say,” Tony said. He thought back over the calls he’d had so far. “I’m not getting a creepy serial killer vibe about him from people, but there’s definitely something a little off.” 

“The creepiest serial killers are the ones who seem normal,” McGee said. “Remember the exploding crypts?”

Tony shuddered at the reminder. “The odd job man with as many ways to kill as he had business cards and the butcher who really liked butchering? Yeah, good point. He was a little weird, but she seemed perfectly normal.” 

“Exploding crypts?” Josh’s head popped up from behind the divider. “What?”

“You don’t want to know,” Tony said. 

“He’s right, you really, really don’t,” McGee said. “Even Abby got creeped out by those two.” 

“Enough said,” Josh replied. “Hey, McGee, can you come look at this? I either found something, or I messed up somewhere.” 

Tony joined McGee as they crowded in by Josh’s desk. “What do you think you found?” McGee asked. 

Josh looked around, then said quietly, “So, I was running analysis on the metadata of the cold case files, looking for patterns. I ran some queries just on the cold cases out of this region, but then realized I should look at all cold cases so I’d have something to compare it to.” 

“Controls are always good,” McGee said. “It’s hard to spot the anomalies if you don’t know what’s normal.” 

“Right,” Josh said. He tapped a few keys and pulled up some charts. “I wasn’t seeing anything. Then I thought about what Tony said earlier, about Director Vance having something specific in mind. Instead of just analyzing the metadata for all the cold cases, I figure there was a group of them I should focus on.” He tapped a line of code on his monitor. “That’s when I found something. 

“Which cases?” Tony asked.

McGee was leaning over Josh’s shoulder to look at the screen, and Tony tried to see what he said. 

“Oh. You’re right,” McGee said. “That’s…” He straightened up, and Tony jerked back before he got a mouthful of McGee’s hair. “I’m going down to Autopsy for a minute. Why don’t you guys go get coffee, and I’ll meet you there. We can talk on the way back.” 

He left, and Josh turned to stare at Tony. “Why Autopsy?” he asked. 

“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who found something,” Tony said. “Come on, not here.” He raised his voice. “McGee’s right, too much staring at screens and of course you’ll hit the wrong buttons. Let’s go find some caffeine before Gibbs gets back.” 

He led Josh toward the elevator, then outside the building, shaking his head almost imperceptibly when Josh started to ask a question. The kid took the hint. Good, he had learned something this summer. 

Once they were outside, away from prying ears, Tony asked, “So, why not Autopsy?”

“Because what I found didn’t have anything to do with cases involving bodies,” Josh said. “It was different.” 

“Different how?” Tony forced himself to be patient. No headsmacking the intern. 

“So, if Vance has something in mind, I  figured there might be common threads among the cold cases he looked at recently ,” Josh said. 

“Good thinking,” Tony said. He was about to say more, but they were at the coffee shop, no sign of McGee. “Hold that thought.” 

By the time they had their order, including a latte for McGee, he was waiting outside for them. 

“Let’s take the scenic route back,” McGee said. 

“So, what was so important in Autopsy?” Tony asked as soon as they were away from other people. 

“Nothing,” McGee said. “But if all three of us had left together after you asked us to look at something, it might have made people wonder.” 

“What did you see?” Tony asked. 

“That an unusually high number trace back to California,” McGee said. 

“That makes sense, though,” Tony said after a minute. “Vance was based in San Diego as assistant director, the way Granger is now. He knows the California cold cases in a way we wouldn’t.” 

“But that’s the thing,” McGee said. “They weren’t cases from when Vance was running the office. They were cases from before that.” 

“Yeah, but he was stationed there for a while after he first joined the agency.” Tony said. 

“And how do you know that?” 

“Oh, put the McEyebrow away, Tim. Like I said on the Ethan LaCombe case, you guys have all the techno mojo and you never peeked at the man’s file?” Tony smirked at his husband’s eye roll.

“Not when it’s the one director we’ve had who hacks almost as well as I do,” McGee said. “So what, we think he saw something then and couldn’t do anything about it?”

“You want to rise up the ranks, sometimes you can’t rock the boat,” Tony said. “During the Domino fiasco, SecNav said something about giving him the post because he said he would get the house in order.” 

“But that was about Lee,” McGee said. 

“Who?” Josh asked. 

“Traitor. NCIS agent. Bad case. Bad problem.” Tony said. 

“Yes, but she’s dead. Has been for almost two years. And we shut down the rest of that operation.” 

“I still don’t get what this has to do with cold cases,” Josh said. 

“What if there are other problems in the agency?” Tony asked. “We know Jenny played things fast and loose. Maybe while she was leading the Frog hunt, Vance caught something else.” 

“So why wait until now?” 

“No time?” Tony started ticking things off on his hands. “If it was connected to Jenny, he couldn’t do anything while she was in charge. He doesn’t take over until she’s in trouble over the Frog, then she winds up dead from another mess she left behind, one that goes back years. He has to straighten that out. Then he has the mole hunt, with us scattered to the four winds. We finally get that sorted out and the Israelis start making trouble and Rivkin goes rogue, Ziva goes missing and by the time that’s stopped being a problem, the Reynosa cartel was gunning for Gibbs.” 

“OK, you may have a point.” 

“May?” 

“Yes, Tony, you’re right. If the director spotted something, he’s had his hands full until now. And if this is another problem with a time-delay fuse like Decker—”

“So where do we start?” Josh asked. 

“We start with California,” Tony said. “Josh, run a couple more query-thingys when we get back. Look at the cases Vance looked at based on who was director at the time, compared with all cases and all cold cases. Also break them down by region, and who the special agent in charge was.”

“Sure,” Josh said. “Anything else?” 

“Look at the agents on each cold case and figure out how many of them served in California at some point, either when they were working the case or at a different time. If it wasn’t during the cold case, was it before or after?” 

“And did they ever work with Vance, or at least in the same office,” McGee added. “If it’s an agent who screwed the pooch, Vance might have been tipped off by something he saw working with them, or near them.” 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ziva left not long after Sarah arrived home, and decided to walk to the Metro and take the subway to her appointment. There was a stop near the therapist’s office, and if she could not bear to go home right away after this, the Metro would be a handy excuse for a delay. 

However, only her long training at not lingering where she could be a target got her to go inside the office, located in the garden level of a rowhouse. She did not want to do this, but she must. It was the right thing to do. 

“So, how long have you been with NCIS?” Dr. Sophia Rojas asked once they were settled in her office. The sunny space at the back of the building looked out over a small garden, and a small glass vase on the windowsill held the same flowers as bloomed outside. 

“I have been part of my team there for five years,” Ziva said, shifting slightly in the upholstered chair. She named the rest of the team for Dr. Rojas. “The first four were as a liaison officer, and in October, it will be one year since I became an NCIS agent.” The memory of the moment Gibbs put the letter on her desk still made her smile. 

“Which agency were you with before NCIS, when you were a liaison officer?” Dr. Rojas sat opposite her, in another chair, rather than behind her desk. 

Ziva hesitated, but forced herself to just say the facts. “Three months ago, I became an American citizen,” she said, consciously keeping her hands relaxed in her lap. “I was born Israeli, and I was a Mossad operative from the time I turned 17 until I took the liaison officer position, and then again for a few months before I joined NCIS.” 

“What made you choose Mossad as a career?” the doctor asked. 

Ziva was not sure how to answer her, not without creating more questions.  _ Those questions are the ones she must ask, that you must answer, _ she reminded herself. “It was something of a family business,” she said after a minute. “We were raised knowing that, and after my sister was killed by a suicide bomber, we did not question that we would go into the family business.” 

“We?”

Ziva thought back to that moment on the stairs to Gibbs’ basement, gun heavy in her hand. “My half-brother, Ari, also was Mossad. He was undercover, in Hamas. He came to America on a mission, and my team at NCIS was assigned to the case. I was his handler.” 

“So you and your brother worked with your current team?” 

Ziva laughed, because if she did not, she did not know how to react. “No, they were trying to catch him.” She hesitated, then took a deep breath and forced herself to continue. “He killed one of the agents on the team, Kate. He targeted others. At the end, he waited in Gibbs’ basement for him, with his own sniper rifle, ready to kill Gibbs.” She swallowed. “Gibbs knew he would come. I hoped he was wrong. When he was not, I did what I had to.” 

“What you had to?” 

“As Ari prepared to shoot Gibbs, I shot him.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “Gibbs did not know, until then, that he was my brother. He did not know what he had asked me to be prepared to do.” 

“And yet, you joined his team after that?” The therapist sounded surprised. 

“I asked to, yes,” Ziva said. “In the moments before his death, I learned that Ari was not working for Mossad anymore. We shared a father. His mother, a doctor, was Palestinian. She was killed by a missile strike on the West Bank, where she worked. Ari also was trained as a doctor. He was not there that day, because he was in Tel Aviv with my father.” 

“You said it was a family business.” 

Ziva nodded. “Yes, my father was behind the missile strike. He wanted to give Hamas a reason to believe Ari would help them. At the end, Ari believed that my father had this plan from the beginning, that he had been destined to become a mole before he was born.” She recalled his words, the ones that still sent a shiver down her spine. 

_ “He never knew how much I hated him. I wish I could see his face when he realizes he created not a mole but a monster.” _

“Gibbs said to me once that my father wasn’t a good man,” Ziva continued. “He was right. NCIS was a way for me to get away from his influence. Fifteen months ago, I went back, made my aliyah, and…” She forced herself to swallow away the burning in her throat. “I had a mission, one that went badly. One of my team was killed, the others wounded. Our leader wanted to turn back, but my father had said we must complete it by any means necessary, so I went on alone.” 

“Did you?” the doctor asked. 

“Did I what?” 

“Complete the mission?” 

Ziva smiled. “No, I did not,” she said. “I was captured and held for many weeks. Then my team — my team here — found me, killed the terrorist whose camp I had infiltrated, and rescued me.” 

“How many weeks?” 

“I-” Ziva paused. “I do not know.” She thought. “It was late May or early June when I arrived at the camp, and we landed at Andrews in the middle of September.” 

“So you were held in a terrorist camp for more than three months.” 

“I-” Ziva forced herself to count weeks in her head. “Yes, that is right.” 

“And when you returned, did you see anybody?” Dr. Rojas asked. “Somebody like me, that is.” 

“I had to undergo the standard psych evaluations before I could become an agent,” Ziva said. 

“But nothing else?” 

Ziva shook her head. “Once I passed, all I wanted to do was feel normal again. Get back in the field and begin again with NCIS, but this time as an agent.” 

“And talking about it wouldn’t have been normal?” 

“No. When you grow up in a war zone, you soon learn that life is hard, and cruel. Bad things happen to good people, and good people do bad things to survive,” Ziva said. “It does no good to talk about it, and talking means thinking about it. You cannot stay sharp and able to react when bombs are falling if you are thinking of the past.” 

“What changed?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re here, now,” Dr. Rojas said. “You are talking about it. You don’t want to, but you have answered all my questions without deflecting, even when doing so is painful.” Her face was serious, but Ziva could feel warmth in her expression. “Something changed. Knowing what it is will help me help you.” 

Ziva wanted to talk about the case, the one where the sailor was caned, but she knew that was not what had changed. It was just the — what was the term? — hay that broke the horse’s back.

“My team, we are a family,” Ziva said, focusing her gaze on her hands, folded in her lap. “Many of us do not have any family of our own, or, like me, they are all but dead to us. The ones who do, they share with the rest of us.” She swallowed back the tears that threatened to rise. “McGee’s younger sister and I have been roommates for several months, since she left a cheating ex-boyfriend. Sarah is nothing like Tali, and yet, she is as much my little sister as Tali was when she lived.” Ziva forced herself to meet the doctor’s eyes. “Sarah is carrying a baby, one she did not want. McGee and Tony married several months ago, and they are adopting the baby. It was Sarah’s choice, a way she found to create some good from a bad situation.” Ziva forced herself to continue. “I am glad they have found a way through this, but living with Sarah, I am reminded often.” 

“Of what?” 

“When I was in Somalia, the men in the camp, they did what men do,” Ziva said. “I might have been a ‘filthy Jew’ but that did not seem to matter to them. Like many zealots, they had twisted the root of their beliefs to allow them to do what they wished.” She swallowed. “I soon was pregnant, and then, when weeks had gone by and they realized, they beat me until I no longer was. The doctors tell me I probably never will be again.” It felt like ripping away a scab to say it, yet Tony had been right. It was easier the second time. Not easy, but easier.

“Easier?” the doctor asked. 

“Oh, I did not realize—” Ziva could not believe she had not realized she was speaking out loud. “Last night, I told my—” 

“Your...?” 

“He is a friend,” Ziva said. “We both know, and want, it to be more. When this all became too much, when I needed to convince myself and everybody else I was fine, I seduced him into more, even though I was not ready.” 

“Did he know that?” 

Ziva shook her head. “He does now,” she said. “He is not mad at me, which I do not understand. Angry, yes, but not at me.”

“You think he should be?” 

“I hurt him, and I did what I did knowing I was trying to deceive him. He is a good man, and he did not deserve that.” 

Dr. Rojas set down the pad of paper she’d been using to take notes. “What did he say?”

“That… That I do not have to deserve love.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she did not try to wipe it away. “That I should not have done what I did, but that he does not blame me now that he knows why.” 

“Do you believe him?” 

“I would like, very much, to believe him,” Ziva said. “I would like to be happy for Sarah, and that Tony and McGee are getting a daughter they very much want.” 

“But?” 

“I am trying, but at night, I find myself back in Somalia, reliving what they did to me, and how it changed my future.” Ziva looked out the windows at the garden filled with colorful wildflowers. “Gibbs told me once that the ruthless, soulless killer my father raised me to become had died in the desert. I left behind more than just that, and I am starting to think I will never be able to accept that and move on.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Vance wasn’t surprised when his assistant told him Agent Burley was waiting to see him. He checked his watch. Burley made good time from Norfolk to get here so soon after he’d received his new orders. Then again, man used to work for Gibbs. 

Vance was standing when the agent came in. “Have a seat,” he said.

“I’m not planning on staying that long,” Burley replied. 

Vance bit down hard on the toothpick in his mouth, just for a second, before forcing his voice to stay normal. “If you’re here for the reason I think you are, then yes, you should have a seat.” 

Burley sat, but his lack of response said a lot from the normally polite agent. 

“Burley, I know you like being afloat, and you don’t like Washington,” Vance said. “This is a temporary posting, until I can resolve some personnel issues aboard the Yard.”

“What kind of issues?” Burley asked. 

“You know I can’t give you details,” Vance said. He thought for a second about what he could give the man. “Gibbs’ team is a man down, while an agent is on leave.” 

“Oh, no. You’re not putting me on Gibbs’ team. Five years was plenty.” 

“No, I’m not.” Vance smiled at the look of relief on Burley’s face. “I moved over an agent from Cold Cases, a young agent who’s worked with the team before.” 

“Oh, Dwayne. Wilson, I think I heard his last name was,” Burley said. “I met him when I was up before.” 

“Yes, Dwayne Wilson.” Vance debated how much more to say. “Jarvis, head of Cold Cases, retires in January. Nobody on his squad is ready to move up to team leader, so I’m moving over an agent from another team. I already have one in mind.” 

Burley just looked at him. Good to see the man had picked up a few things from Gibbs, even if it included his second-most annoying habit. 

“Because of what I have planned for January, I’m trying to minimize disruption now,” Vance said. “I have a competition running among the Capitol Region agents, investigating cold cases. Individual work only, until they can find enough new evidence to justify bringing in a team.” 

“You’re looking to see who has a knack for cold cases,” Burley said. 

“So you can see why I don’t want to move somebody over now and give the appearance that any agent has an inside track on any future openings in Cold Cases.” He waited while Burley appeared to be thinking. 

“But anybody suitable to take over as team lead wouldn’t be filling in for a young agent…” Burley’s voice trailed off. “You’re giving Tony the team lead, and moving Dwayne to Gibbs’ team permanently, so you need somebody to take that slot, but you don’t want anybody to know that.” He paused. “Does Gibbs know that?” 

“As I said, I can’t comment on personnel matters,” Vance said, but he smiled. Burley was good. “I left your orders open-ended, but I expect that you’ll be reassigned after the first of the year. You’re helping this agency out at a crucial point, so be thinking about your top choices for postings. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.” He motioned so Burley would know he could leave. 

“Yes, sir,” Burley said, standing. “Which agent on Gibbs’ team is out?” 

“David,” Vance said. “Undetermined amount of time.” 

Burley nodded and left, no doubt to see what Gibbs’ team would tell him. Vance checked the time, but it was later than ideal for the next call he needed to make. He wasn’t sorry to put it off until Monday. It was a complicated dance, a conversation with Eli. Had been ever since Ziva made her choice to join NCIS. Worth doing when needed to preserve relations with Mossad, but right now, also worth delaying. Ziva would not want Eli to know anything. Couldn’t blame her one bit, not after what she’d been through. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


“Tell us about Petty Officer Dawes,” Gibbs said once they were settled in the CO’s office. Dwayne kept his mouth shut to see where Gibbs was going with this. 

“Is he in trouble?” asked Lt. Commander Hal Wisnewski. 

“His name’s come up in connection with a case. Not sure he’s involved,” Gibbs said. “Don’t want to pull him in if he’s not.” 

The officer nodded. “Dawes is a good supply officer,” he said. “Detailed, methodical. As far as that goes, one of my best sailors.” 

“You said, ‘as far as that goes,’” Dwayne asked. “Are there ways he’s not one of your best sailors?” 

“Logistics specialists used to be called storekeepers,” Wisnewski said. “Part of the rating requires you to be good at interacting with people.” 

“Dawes isn’t?” Gibbs said. 

“He’s not bad at it,” Wisnewski said. 

“But?” Dwayne prodded. 

“He’s better suited for the portions of the job where he doesn’t interact with others as much,” Wisnewski said. 

“Explain,” Gibbs said. 

“That’s just it,” Wisnewski replied. “I can’t. No complaints, no concerns raised. And I asked around to be sure.” 

“But?” Dwayne said. 

“But after about six months, I noticed that in-person interactions with the supply clerks had shifted. Very few happened when Dawes was on that watch, no matter when he was scheduled. I couldn’t get any read on why, and nobody would say anything when I asked. I shifted things around so he did more of the work that doesn’t interact with the rest of the base, and it seemed to resolve it.” 

“If you have any notes, observations about what you saw and did while investigating, they could help us with our investigation,” Dwayne said. 

“I never put them in his file,” Wisnewski said. “With nothing concrete, there wasn’t any point.” 

“You still have them?” Gibbs asked. When the lieutenant commander nodded, Gibbs said, “We need copies.” 

“If you insist,” Wisnewski said. 

Once they were out of the CO’s office, Dwayne remembered his past experience on Team Gibbs. “Once we get back to the office, I’ll check with his earlier COs, see if they had the same experience and if that’s why he moved so much.” 

Gibbs nodded, but didn’t add anything. Dwayne tried not to smile. Good, he was doing something right. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

When he left Vance’s office, Burley stopped by the bullpen. Only Tony and McGee were there. 

“Hey, Stan,” McGee said. “What brings you back to the Navy Yard?” 

“New assignment,” he said, sitting on the edge of Gibbs’ desk facing the other agents. “Vance assigned me here short-term.” 

“I thought you liked agent afloating,” Tony said. 

“I do, but when you get orders…” He held up his hands. “Vance promised me it was temporary, though, and he’s asked for my top choices for my next assignment, so it’s not so bad.” 

“Cold cases?” Tony asked. 

“How’d you-?”

“Because we’re borrowing Dwayne from them for a while,” McGee said. 

“I heard that,” Burley said. “Vance mentioned you were short-handed.” 

He watched the men look at each other, then turn back to face him. 

“Ziva’s taking some leave,” Tony said. “Dwayne’s filling in because, well, he’s the only other agent here that Gibbs won’t chew up and spit out.” 

“Better him than me,” Stan said. “I prefer my stomach ulcer-free.” 

“Since you’re going to be around, we’ll let you know if we have a game night coming up,” McGee said. “Gibbs and Ducky won’t be there, but pretty much everybody else usually comes.” 

“I’ve heard about those insanity-fests,” Stan said. 

“Whatever you heard, it’s worse.” An auburn-haired teen stuck his head around the partition between his desk and McGee’s. 

“Stan, did you meet Josh Cooper last time?” McGee asked. “He’s an intern assigned to our team this summer.” 

“Interns? Vance let Gibbs have an intern? Gibbs actually has an intern and hasn’t run him off?” Stan asked. 

“It’s a long story,” Tony said. 

“With you guys, it always is,” Stan replied. He thought for a minute. “Did I see you at the coffee shop one time during our stakeout?” 

“Probably,” Josh said. “I live near there.” 

“And he likes McSis,” Tony said in a stage whisper, which turned Josh’s face the color of his hair and had McGee rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who still goes there,” Josh said. “Ducky stops in a couple of times a week, I’ve seen Brad there on Tuesdays and Sarah said Damon comes in a few times a week, too.” 

“We met Jimmy and Abby there last week after Abby and Tony’s yoga class,” McGee said. “He’s right, Tony, we really can’t bust him for that.” 

“I thought the evil ex was gone for the summer,” Stan said. 

“He is,” McGee said. 

“Summer’s almost over,” Josh said. “Next week’s my last week here, remember? I don’t know when Waverley starts back, but I have my first law school class a week from Monday.” 

“Great,” Tony said. “Just what we didn’t need. Evil Josh back in town.” 

“I’ll check Waverley’s schedule,” McGee said, already tapping away at his computer. “Looks like classes start end of next week. I’ll figure out how to tell Sarah.” 

“We might need a game night this weekend to figure things out,” Tony said. “Maybe we should host, though?” 

“Add that to the list for tonight,” McGee said. “Thanks for the reminder, Stan. We definitely don’t want that problem returning.” 

“Glad I could help.” He checked his watch. “I still have a long drive back to Norfolk, so I’m going to head out. Let me know if you organize something this weekend. I don’t know how crazy my schedule will be once I start Monday, but if I can help, I’d like to.”

The guys thanked him and Stan headed out. One thing was sure: This assignment wasn’t going to be boring. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  
  


When Ziva left Dr. Rojas’ office, she felt the same way she had after the run in Rock Creek Park the day before: shaky, but lighter, somehow. She walked the streets around the office, turning whichever way felt right, and focused on her breath. On missions, it had been her way to find her center, her steadiness before taking the shot. In Somalia, it was her clock, a way to measure time. Now, she allowed the heavy, damp air, so different from the desert, to ground her in Washington. She was not in Somalia. She was not in Tel Aviv. She was in Washington, the home she had chosen. The family she had chosen. 

That family included her little sister, Sarah. She had told Damon, and he had understood. He had promised her support, and love. Now she must tell Sarah, and hope she, too, could understand. That she, too, could allow Ziva the space to find peace with the ghosts of her past. 

She stopped at a corner store for juice, sweet and sticky, but easing the shakiness in her body. She drank it as she found her way back to her car, the buzz of cicadas sharp in the air around her. 

When she arrived at the house, she found Jethro waiting eagerly at the back door to come in and Sarah asleep on the couch. The dog slurped down most of his water bowl before settling on the tiled floor of the kitchen, so Ziva refilled it. Then she put the tea kettle on and found the box of Abby’s favorite herbal tea they kept around for game nights and a glass pitcher. Iced tea would be refreshing, and it was something she could do while she waited for Sarah to wake. 

Once the tea was steeped as strong as she could make it, Ziva started dropping ice cubes in the pitcher, watching as the first few melted in moments, while later ones just lost their edges and started bumping into each other. By the time she had filled the pitcher, it was cool enough for droplets to form on the outside, and she could hear Sarah stirring in the other room. She took some peaches and cherries from the bowl on the counter, sliced the peaches, pitted the cherries and arranged both on a plate, then poured two glasses of iced tea before setting the pitcher in the refrigerator. 

The early evening sun still was high in the sky as she carried everything into the living room and set it on the coffee table. 

“Wow, thanks,” Sarah said as she stretched and yawned. “What’s the red drink?” 

“Abby’s tea, iced,” Ziva said. “My Aunt Nettie would make us hibiscus tea as a special treat in the summer. It … has always been a favorite memory of mine.” 

Sarah sat up, her movements slow and awkward, then took a glass. “Then, to your Aunt Nettie.” She held it up and they clinked glasses. “How was your appointment?” 

“I learned, very early, that it was necessary to do difficult things, and to do them without complaining,” Ziva said. “When you are knocked down, you get back up.” 

“And today was hard?” Sarah asked as she started eating cherries. 

Ziva nodded. “Tony told me, yesterday, that the first time is the most difficult. The second becomes easier, and the third easier still.” She made herself keep her eyes on Sarah. “I told Damon last night, and now I should tell you.” 

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Sarah said. 

“Please, listen first,” Ziva said. “Then you, I think, will understand why I say I must tell you.” 

She began to speak, to tell the story of a warrior who had once been a child dancing, wishing her father was there and promising herself she would be there when her own daughter danced. Who now was no longer a warrior, but also would never be a mother, and no longer looked for her father to be there. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Tony hung up the phone. Yes, firmer than normal, but no, he didn’t slam it down. 

“Still nothing?” McGee asked. 

“Nothing that’s going to help,” Tony said. He thought back through all the calls he’d made. “One of his friends died from suicide in high school, but nothing to link him to her death, and no question that it was a suicide.” 

“Same pattern,” McGee replied. 

“Knowing people who kill themselves isn’t a crime,” Tony retorted. “My gut might not be Gibbs-level, but it says something’s hinky, but I have no idea how we prove it.” 

“He’s had a lot of transfers given his time in service, but I’m not finding many similar cases that might link to him,” McGee said. “The only thing I did find is that the cases we know about all happened near the bases he was at the longest. At least two years for each of them. Most of his other assignments were shorter.” 

Before Tony could reply, Gibbs and Dwayne walked in. 

“Whatta we got?” 

After Tony shared, he listened to McGee and Dwayne’s reports.

“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong,” he said after Dwayne finished. 

“What do you mean?” McGee asked. 

“We’ve been looking at this case like it’s a murder case that was classified as a bunch of suicides,” he said. “Maybe it’s not that simple.”

Gibbs gave a short nod, so Tony continued. “I can think of two possibilities. One, he’s got something in him that attracts him to people who are depressed and prone to suicide.” 

“And the other?” McGee asked. 

“He’s gaslighting them,” Tony said. “He gets off on manipulating them until they’re suicidal and then he gets to see them die without having to do it himself.”

“That’s sick,” Dwayne said. 

“Boss, this sounds like we need to get Ducky involved,” McGee said. “If Tony’s right, in option one, we have no case. Dawes might benefit from therapy, but it’s not a crime to date people with suicidal ideation.”

“And if he’s gaslighting them, Ducky will have more luck figuring out how the dirtbag’s brain works so we can stop him before it happens to somebody here,” Tony said. 

“I’ll take the files down,” Gibbs said. “Go home, all of you.” He headed for the back elevator.

Tony checked his watch. “Come on, before he changes his mind.” 

As they left the Navy Yard, Tony was glad Tim had driven in today. Cold cases all day were enough to melt his brain. 

“Damon’s coming at 6:30?” he asked, eyes closed. 

“With beer,” Tim said. 

“We need beer for this conversation?” Tony asked. He opened his eyes and looked at Tim’s profile. “That doesn’t sound good.” 

“Ziva wants him to tell us about what happened in Somalia so she doesn’t have to do it again. You really think we can have that conversation without beer?” 

“It’s a good thing Eli normally just sends one of his Mossad flunkies over rather than coming himself, because if I see the man again, I might actually try and kill him.”

“You, me, Ducky, Gibbs,” McGee said. “And don’t forget Abby, who-”

“Can kill him and leave no forensic evidence,” Tony finished the sentence with him, unable to resist a smile at the familiar line from the scientist. 

They got home about half an hour before Damon was set to arrive. Tony forced himself to keep busy the entire time so he wouldn’t have to think about what Damon was going to tell them. 

When the former Marine arrived, he passed out beer from the six-pack he’d brought before he said anything. 

“That bad?” Tony said, forcing his voice to stay light. 

“It’s not good,” Damon said. “I’m sure you can guess some of it.” 

“We knew she was beaten, and you said the other day there are scars in places we haven’t seen,” Tony said. “And we’ve all assumed she was raped.” His hand tightened around the beer bottle. “There’s more?” 

Damon nodded, fingers picking at the label on his bottle. “There’s more.” 

Tony couldn’t bring himself to ask, and Damon didn’t seem in a hurry to share. Finally, Tim spoke. 

“What don’t we know?” he asked. “What didn’t she think she could tell us?” 

A muscle in Damon’s jaw twitched, and Tony suddenly had a very bad feeling in his gut.

“She was raped,” Damon said. “Repeatedly.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She became pregnant. When it became obvious, they beat her until she miscarried.”

“Oh, shit,” Tim said. “First Sarah, and then Abby with the miscarriage.” 

“Abby what?” Damon said. 

“In the middle of the Mexico debacle,” Tony said. “Not many people knew, and we only did because McBlabber put his foot in it and pissed off Jimmy and Gibbs, who did know. And we didn’t tell you about it.” 

“Did Ziva know?” Damon asked. 

Tony looked at Tim, who shrugged. “Not as far as I know, but it’s possible,” Tim said. 

Tony thought about it for a minute. “If she did, and that was a trigger, wouldn’t something have happened then?” 

“Not necessarily,” Damon said. “That was a crazy time, and you guys were worried about the Reynosa cartel gunning for Gibbs.” 

“He’s got a point,” McGee said. “You know how Ziva is.”

“Yes, our scary assassin ninja chick was in her element while Paloma was on the loose,” Tony said. He looked at Damon. “Tell me that’s everything.” 

The former marine didn’t say anything. 

“Damon.” Tony put as much “don’t mess with me” Gibbsian tone into his voice as he could. 

“She said to tell you everything?” he asked. 

Tim nodded. “She said we’d know who needed to know what.” 

Damon was silent for another minute. Tony fought the urge to fill the time with chatter. Finally, Damon started talking. 

“I don’t know the details, but she said because of what happened, there was too much damage for the doctors to fix all of it,” he said. “She’s no longer able to have children.” 

Tony was talking before he even realized it. “Ziva was the one who realized Sarah was pregnant, and got her to take the test,” he said. “She knew, because she recognized the symptoms. And now she’s living in the same house as Sarah, who’s McCrankily pregnant.” 

“Call her McCranky to her face and even Gibbs won’t be able to save you,” Tim retorted. “But…” His voice trailed off. “This is bad.” 

Damon was quick to agree. “Ziva wouldn’t say it, but I think being around Sarah is reminding her of what she lost. Not so much the baby, but-”

“But the possibility,” Tony said. 

“She thought I wouldn’t want her if I knew,” Damon said. “She thinks, because she chose to go on that mission—”

“She didn’t choose,” Tony said, remembering the smug look on Ben-Gidon’s face. “She did what her son-of-a-bitch of a father told her to do.” 

“That’s not how she sees it,” Damon said. “She blames herself. And, she wouldn’t say it, but every time she sees Sarah—”

“She’s reminded,” Tim said. “No wonder she said she didn’t want to tell us.” He started ticking things off on his long fingers. “Evil Josh already screwed with Sarah enough that telling her will probably make things worse. Not telling her is hurting Ziva because they live together. Abby and Jimmy keep talking about bat-gremlins. And she thinks Damon won’t want her.” 

“I’ve told her otherwise,” Damon said. “It doesn’t matter to me.” 

“You’re sure?” Tony said. “Because if you say that now and change your mind and hurt Ziva, I still owe you a punch for that broken nose.” 

“And I’d let you take a clean shot,” Damon said. “But all those steroids for all those years? Docs say I’m probably shooting blanks. I told Ziva that. She at least can blame her father. Mine’s all on me.” 

Tony was momentarily lost for words.

“McGee, you’re right about the rest of it, though,” Damon said. “When Ziva first told me she’d been raped, I offered to move out. They don’t need me there for protection anymore. That’s when Ziva said I wasn’t the problem.” 

“So we have to figure out how to have Ziva and Sarah not live together without Sarah thinking she’s the problem,” Tim said. 

“We’re screwed,” Tony said. He started thinking. “McGee, didn’t you say Maryland would let one of us adopt, but not both?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s what I found. Why?” 

“We decided Sarah was going to put me down as the father, remember?” Tony said. “That way Evil Josh can’t try and pull something.” 

“Which would mean Maryland would let me adopt since we’re married,” Tim said. 

“So you two could move back into the house, and let Sarah stay there, and Ziva could move back here,” Damon said. 

“Wait, that leaves you without a place,” Tim replied. “And we can’t do that after everything you’ve done for us.” 

Tony thought for a minute. “Guys, we shouldn’t be talking about this without Ziva. She’ll break out her paperclips if she thinks we’re making decisions for her.” 

Nobody could argue with him about that. 

“We said we needed a game night this weekend anyway,” Tim said. “Damon, I know we usually have them out at the house, but do you think…?” 

“I’ll talk to Ziva and see,” Damon said. “I don’t know if she wants group problem solving for this or not.” He stood to leave. “I’ll text you later tonight or tomorrow morning.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“Mr. Palmer, here’s another file that warrants further review,” Ducky said, handing it to his assistant. 

“That’s four,” the young man replied as he placed it on a pile. 

“Five.” 

Ducky turned to see Gibbs handing him a folder. “A murder?” 

“Unknown,” Gibbs said. “We need your other skills for this one.” 

“A psychological autopsy?” Ducky opened the thin folder. “There’s not much here.” 

Gibbs just looked at him. 

“Yes, well, I will do what I can,” the medical examiner said. “This is another cold case?” 

“As far as we know,” Gibbs said. “Depends on what you tell us.” He turned and left. 

Ducky flipped through what little was in the file. Intriguing. “Mr. Palmer, I believe we are about done here for today.” 

“Yes, doctor,” Jimmy said. “I just have two more files to look through, but it will only take me a few minutes.” 

“Very well then,” Ducky said. “And then you’ll go to the lab and make sure Abby isn’t planning to stay all night?”

“If she’d gotten a ding, she would have told us, or Gibbs,” Jimmy said. “I mean, maybe she did and she did tell Gibbs, but then he would have told us and he didn’t tell us.” His assistant subsided. 

“Jimmy, just finish up and then you two please go home. It is rare indeed that we have an early night, so make the most of it.” And yet, despite his words of wisdom to his assistant, Ducky found himself delving into the file Gibbs had handed him, making notes on his pad. 

This was an intriguing case indeed, and one with far too little information about the sailor in question to make a definitive diagnosis. Still, the medical examiner read carefully through the notes the agents had compiled, writing down questions as they occurred to him. If the team could find answers, that would help. 

By the time he looked up again, more than an hour had gone by. Mr. Palmer, thankfully, was no longer in Autopsy. Oh, he was good company. But he and Abby surely had better things to do than stay at work without a case. 

He looked back down at the file. Dwayne Wilson was a good agent, but there was something in him oddly bereft at a file with Wilson’s notes and not those in Ziva’s precise hand. He wondered how she was doing. It was perhaps too soon to inquire with her, but if he had not heard anything in a few days — Monday, at the latest — he should call and see if she would like to meet him for tea. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Once Damon had left, McGee drained the second half of his beer. 

“What’s bothering you, McMichelob?” Tony asked. 

“Evil Josh is due back in town, Sarah’s presence in their house is traumatizing Ziva, who cracked after she found out I dabbled in BDSM with Abby, and we’re pretty sure Vance is plotting something.” McGee sank back into the couch cushions. “What isn’t bothering me?” He reached across and rubbed the shoulder that had been shot earlier in the year. 

“Too much computer magic today?” his husband asked. 

“Too little information.” McGee sighed. “Too much … other stuff.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Tony said. “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’ll even throw in a shoulder massage.” 

McGee raised one eyebrow. “Really?” 

“You can’t sleep if your shoulder’s tied up in knots, and I can’t sleep if my pillow is tossing and turning,” Tony said. “Besides, you did volunteer today to remind Sarah her evil ex is coming back. That kind of taking one for the team should be rewarded.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. 

McGee snorted. “I can’t argue with that.” He sat up. “What are the odds Evil Josh has moved on?” 

“I think the bigger question is what his reaction will be when he sees Sarah’s moved on,” Tony said, his voice serious again. “Especially since it sounds like our soon-to-be-ex-intern plans on hanging around.” 

“That should be interesting when my parents get wind of that, especially if he really does go into Naval Intelligence,” McGee said. “I can pretty much guarantee that the only reason my parents would have put money down on Sarah being their kid more likely to end up dating a sailor is because any sailor I’d be interested in would be one who couldn’t tell.” 

“Her ex that got killed that one time was a sailor,” Tony reminded him. 

“Yes, but not a law school, ONI-type sailor.” McGee cracked his neck. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Josh and he gets points for not being scared off by all the complications, plus surviving a summer working for Gibbs.” 

“If he can handle Gibbs, I suspect he’ll handle his evil non-doppelganger just fine,” Tony replied. 

McGee stood and collected the beer bottles. “I’ll rinse these and put them in recycling.” 

“And I’ll go get the massage oil ready.” Tony grinned again, the big goofy one that never failed to make McGee laugh. 

When he walked into the bedroom, Tony had pulled down the comforter and was already undressed. McGee followed suit and lay down on his side of the bed, on the towel Tony had spread over the sheets. As he felt his husband’s warm, oiled hands dig into the knots in his shoulder, he groaned. 

“Too much?” Tony asked. 

“Keep going,” McGee said. As he lay there, his mind kept drifting back to what Damon had told them. “We could let Damon stay.” 

“Huh?” 

“At the house,” McGee said. “We could swap with Ziva, who has our old bedroom anyway. Sarah has the guest room, and the third bedroom makes the most sense for the baby’s room. Damon’s down in my writing room, but I can set up my typewriter someplace else for a while.” 

Tony’s hands slowed. “I still say we shouldn’t be talking about this without Ziva,” he replied.

“I’m not saying decide,” McGee said. “But we should figure out what works for us before we have that discussion when everybody’s around.” 

Tony didn’t say anything, but McGee didn’t rush to fill the silence. 

“I think we wait and see,” Tony finally said. “If there’s a solution that works for Sarah, Ziva and Damon so they all have a place to live, I don’t think we get to argue with that. Not right now.” 

McGee sighed. “You’re right.” He rolled his bad shoulder, glad to find it felt just about normal. “Ziva said we should decide who to tell what about what she went through.” 

“Duckman should know,” Tony said immediately. “He’s more likely than any of us to be able to spot a problem after she’s back.” He moved off McGee, the mattress shifting under them. 

“And he won’t say anything to anybody,” McGee said. He rolled over onto his side, facing Tony. “Abby, on the other hand.” 

“She needs to know,” Tony said. “Palmer, too. Before he puts his foot in his mouth.” 

“Jimmy will do that without even trying,” McGee said. “In fact, he’s usually worse when he’s trying not to talk about something.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Tony said. “Think there’s any way we can just ask them to cool it with the bat-gremlin comments?” 

“Without Abby asking why?” 

Tony closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. “What about the others?” 

“Damon knows,” McGee replied, thinking through the names of the rest of the Gibblets. “Josh probably just needs the rough sketch — she was tortured. He’s smart enough to understand what that means, and if he’s not, you can clue him in.” 

“Why me?” 

“Hey, you’re the one who made the big impression on him four years ago so that he applied to NCIS for an internship in the first place,” McGee reminded him. 

Tony just grunted in reply, and McGee hid a smile, just in case Tony did open his eyes. 

“Dwayne and Brad probably just need to know it’s aftereffects from Somalia,” McGee said. 

“You sure about that?” Tony rolled back over to face him. “Dwayne back on the team means Maggie and the kids at game nights.”

“I still don’t think Ziva wants that many people knowing,” McGee said. He thought back to her conversation with him. “I’m pretty sure she wants us to deal with Abby and Jimmy, and maybe Sarah, if she or Damon haven’t talked to her already.” 

“The last time they came over for a game night, all the kids stayed with a sitter anyway,” Tony said. “So maybe you’re right.” 

“Gibbs?” McGee asked. 

“She talked to him last night,” Tony reminded him. “He probably already knows. Even if she didn’t tell him.” 

“So you really just need to talk to Jimmy and Abby,” McGee said. 

“Me? Why me?” 

“Because I’m telling Sarah that Evil Josh is coming back. That means you get Jimmy and Abby.” He waited a beat. “And no, being senior field agent doesn’t mean you can delegate.” McGee kept a straight face as Tony opened his mouth to protest, then realized McGee was right and stopped. Only then did McGee let out his laughter. 

“I hate you,” Tony said without heat. 

“You love me,” McGee replied. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

They turned out the lights and settled on the bed. McGee heard a muffled voice from where Tony’s head was tucked against his neck. 

“I do, you know.” 

“I know. Me too.”

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Abby didn’t hear Jimmy approaching because of her music, but she recognized his arms as they wrapped around her from behind. “Jimmy!” She turned so they were nose to nose. “Are you done already?” 

“Abbs, it’s after six,” he said. He kissed the tip of her nose and stepped back. “Dr. Mallard told me we should take advantage of no big cases to leave on time for once.” He looked at his watch. “Well, mostly on time.” 

Abby nodded. “Just let me put all my babies to bed.” She left a few running their tests overnight, and started shutting down the others. When she finished, she found Jimmy waiting with her lunchbox and handbag. “Eager?” She lifted one eyebrow. 

“It’s Friday night, we don’t have a hot case, and we’re leaving on time,” he replied. 

“Good point, Jimmy.” Abby gave a nod. “Come on, let’s go. Before somebody else comes looking for us.” 

Once they were in her hot rod, she could practically feel him looking at her. “What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

“Else?” 

“What?” 

“You said before somebody else comes looking for us. Which means somebody did come looking for us before.”

“Agent Krone.” Abby rolled her eyes. “He said he wanted me to re-test evidence in a cold case, but when I asked him why Balboa hadn’t mentioned it when I saw him on my Caf-Pow run, he backed off.” 

“He wanted to break open a cold case, but couldn’t do it solo,” Jimmy said. 

Abby nodded. “And you remember the memo Leon sent around to us and Ducky with the cold case announcement: We’re only supposed to get involved if the team leader brings it to us once the team has reopened the case.” 

“Gibbs brought one down to Dr. Mallard about an hour ago,” Jimmy said. “Not for evidence, though. He needed a psychological autopsy.” 

“So next week’s going to be another busy one,” Abby said as she pulled out of the Navy Yard and navigated the DC traffic. “Looks like we’d better relax while we can.” 

“Did you hear any more about Ziva?” Jimmy asked. 

“No, but Timmy said Damon was going to fill them in, so they’re probably just finding out,” Abby said. “He said he’d tell us what we needed to know.” 

“I know,” Jimmy said. “It’s just…” 

“Just what?” 

“I feel guilty,” he said. “Not about what we do, or that we told the team, because we needed to for the case, but it sounds like that was what set things off, and—” He gulped. “What if Ziva won’t want to be friends anymore because of that?”

Abby blinked back tears. “Ziva’s not like that,” she said. “Sure, she turned her back on Eli, but that’s because he left her there to die. She refused to turn her back on Ari until it was him or Gibbs, she stopped being mad at Tony after she realized he wasn’t the bad guy and she never blamed me for being mean to her when she started because she wasn’t Kate and I didn’t trust her.” Abby chewed her lower lip. “She might not be comfortable with us, and I really, really, really want to hug her but I’ll wait until she’s ready for it, but she’s not going to turn her back on us.” She parked the car outside their apartment and turned to face Jimmy. “She’s not, right?” 

She loved her boyfriend — no, fiance — so much in that moment when he pulled her in for a hug. 

“She’s not,” Jimmy said. “You’re right.” 

He didn’t say it, but Abby could practically hear his “I hope” at the end of that, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she hoped too. Because she wanted to say she knew, but Ziva probably didn’t even know yet and Abby couldn’t claim to know Ziva better than Ziva knew Ziva, but she really, really hoped she was right about this because she wanted her friend back and not scared of her. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

When Gibbs pulled the truck into his driveway, he could see Eileen shooting hoops in her driveway. He checked his watch. He had time for a game before he settled in to make dinner. Maybe a distraction would give him some perspective. 

Inside 15 minutes, he was sitting on his front steps tying his old Chucks. He heard the thumping of the basketball stop and looked up to see McGee’s mom standing there, ball in one hand. 

“First one to 21?” Eileen asked. 

Gibbs nodded and followed her back to the McGees’ driveway. They started playing, starting out slowly while Gibbs got warmed up. He’d just drained a three over Eileen’s raised arms when she grinned, and he knew that grin. Warm-up was over.

The next 20 minutes were borderline dirty, every point hard-fought. Gibbs had the height advantage, but Eileen was fast and this was her game. She faked left, dribbled right and sank the final shot to the sound of Sean cheering her on from the porch. 

“You need to get DiNozzo over here for a game,” Gibbs said as he used his shoulder to get the worst of the sweat off his face. 

“He beats her about half the time,” Sean said, passing over glasses of ice water to both of them. 

Eileen nodded, the bits of hair that had escaped her ponytail sticking to her face. “He told me about a women’s league at the Y where he plays on the weekends, so I’m going to check it out when things start up again in a few weeks.” 

“It’s hard to believe summer’s almost over,” Sean said. “It’s weird not to be getting ready for the semester to start again.” 

“Miss it?” Gibbs asked. 

“Yes and no,” Sean replied. “I miss working with the midshipmen, and helping shape the next generation of Navy officers. But we see the kids more now, even when you and the boys are busy with cases, and I’m looking forward to spending a lot of time with our new granddaughter in a few months.” 

“Sarah would be happy for you to spend time with her now,” Eileen said. She looked over at Gibbs. “She’s already at the ‘enough already’ stage, not that I blame her with everything that’s gone on.” 

“You know, we didn’t miss that the kids were concerned about Josh back before the semester ended, and now the new one’s about to start up,” Sean said. 

Gibbs had to remind himself that Sean and Eileen were talking about the ex, not Cooper. “You think he could cause trouble?” he asked. 

“I think you know more about what went on than the kids told us,” Sean said. “You almost always do.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re probably right there,” Gibbs said. “I don’t tell Jack half of what goes on, either.” He thought about it for a second. “My gut says he’s either forgotten all about Sarah, or he’s going to be as big a problem as he was in the spring. I just don’t know which.”

“No middle ground,” Eileen replied. 

“Not likely,” Gibbs said. “Whatever happens, Sarah will be safe. You have my word.” 

He spent a few more minutes with McGee’s parents before heading back to his house. Gibbs wiped the remaining sweat from his face with the bottom of his old NIS shirt and detoured by the mailbox. Bills, junk, more junk. He missed the letter in the stack the first time through. As he sorted them while walking toward the house, he saw it the second time. He hadn’t seen that handwriting in a couple of years, but he’d seen it so many times over the years, he recognized it immediately. 

Gibbs stopped on the porch and sat on the rail as he opened the letter. 

_ Probie, you got to promise to keep what I’m about to tell you between us. No telling my girls. _

“Aw, hell, Mike,” Gibbs said as he read the rest of the letter. 


	7. Chapter 7

After Damon left Tony and McGee’s apartment, he headed back to the house, unsure of what he would find. 

Ziva’s car was in the driveway, and as Damon entered the side door, he heard quiet conversation from the living room. He carefully closed the door and bent down to scratch a sleepy Jethro on the head. The German shepherd gave a doggy sigh and settled back on the tile floor. Damon couldn’t blame him in this heat. 

He toed off his shoes and padded in socked feet toward the living room. Ziva and Sarah were sitting on the couch, facing each other. Sarah couldn’t see him, but if he moved closer and Ziva looked up, she would. He stayed back in the shadows cast by the early evening sun. 

“They raped you,” Sarah said. “That’s where the scars are from?”

Ziva nodded. “From that, and the way they beat me,” she said. “But, that is not all.” She hesitated, and Damon wished he could send her strength to say this again, even if he knew that would not help her. “Not all my scars are on the outside,” she said. “When they raped me, they did not care what happened to me. They did not care what they were doing to me. They did not care what they put in my body.” She stopped, and for a minute, Damon didn’t hear anything. 

“Ziva?” Sarah finally asked. 

“I am sorry,” Ziva said. “It is hard for me to say this, but I must.” She looked up, and if Damon wasn’t back in the shadows, she definitely would have seen him. “Sarah, I, too, know what it is like to be carrying a child you did not want. Only mine…” She took a deep breath and even at a distance, Damon could see tears shimmering in her eyes. “Mine did not survive. Once they could tell what they had done, they beat me until there was no life left in me.”

Sarah gasped, and Damon wished he could see her face. 

“I knew what was wrong with you because I recognized it from my own experience,” Ziva said. “But what you are going through now, I will never experience. The damage they did, it was not something the doctors could fix.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It has been … difficult for me, seeing you go through this. I know it is not easy for you, but it also is a reminder for me of what I lost in the desert, a reminder I have not been handling well.” 

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Sarah asked. “Do you want me to move out? Living together was your idea.” 

“No!” Ziva said. “No, this is not your fault.” She stood and started pacing. “I don’t know what I need to do, but whatever it is, it is something  _ I _ need to do. I only told you so you would know why.” She shook her head. “You, possibly Abby before too long. This is not something I can avoid. I just need to figure out how to see you as you, not as a reminder of what can no longer be.” She turned to look at Sarah. “All I ask is that you be patient as I figure this out.” 

“Tim would be the first one to tell you I’m the least patient person he knows — and he’s married to Tony,” Sarah said. “But you do what you need to and don’t worry about me.” 

“Thank you.” Ziva turned toward the doorway, and Damon stepped back toward his bedroom so she could choose to avoid him, too. 

She didn’t, though. “You heard?” she asked. 

“I shouldn’t have—”

“No, I am not mad,” Ziva said. 

“How are you doing?” 

She tipped her head toward his room, and he motioned for her to go ahead, then followed. Once he was inside, she shut the door. 

“I saw somebody today,” she said, leaning against the wall. “It was hard, but it was, I believe, a good thing.” 

“I stopped by Tony and McGee’s on the way home,” Damon said. 

“You told them?” 

“McGee said—”

“Yes, I did.” The corners of Ziva’s mouth tipped up briefly in a smile. “Thank you. They needed to know, others needed to know, and I could not… Not yet.” 

“I said this yesterday, but Tony and McGee also brought it up. If we need to switch around who lives where again, we can. They figured it out so they both would be able to be legal parents even here in Maryland.” 

Ziva was silent for a minute. “No.” She looked at him. “When the baby comes, yes, I think it would be best so they can be here with Sarah. But for now, I do not wish to change yet one more thing because of what those men did.” 

She stood there, looking at him, and he could see her lower lip tremble, just a bit. “Can I hug you?” he asked. 

She nodded, just slightly, and he stepped closer and pulled her in, one hand cradling the back of her head. “You’ve got this,” he said in her ear. “Whatever you need, everybody’s here for you — especially me — but you’re going to get through this.” 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Sarah sat at the kitchen table, exhausted. She should go to bed — she was opening tomorrow — but she didn’t know if she could sleep. She rubbed one hand over her belly, then jerked it away when she realized what she was doing. Ziva’s words echoed in her head:  _ It also is a reminder for me of what I lost in the desert. _ She tried to imagine what Ziva must think, and failed. Sure, she had no interest in children of her own — and that might be something to figure out where Good Josh stood on that before she even thought about his interest in something more than friendship — but at least she had a choice. 

Even with this one, even after she offered the baby to Tim and Tony, they told her it was her decision if she changed her mind and wanted an abortion. She hadn’t wanted that at all, but how much worse would it be to want a child and not be able to have one? And worse yet, listen to your friend complain about the evil bastard who knocked her up. 

Sarah decided no matter what Ziva said, she needed to be careful around her. The former Mossad officer had always seemed indestructible to her, but not today. Today, as she’d told Sarah the secret she’d been carrying around, Ziva had seemed too close to one of the old, faded paper dolls her grandmother kept around from when her mother was a child. Worn and flaking at the edges, something that needed to be handled gently so it wouldn’t fall apart. 

“Still awake?” Damon’s voice from behind startled her into banging her knee on the table. 

“I want to sleep,” Sarah said, rubbing her knee. “I just don’t know if I can.”

He sat down across from her. “Because of Ziva.” 

Sarah nodded. “Did you know?” 

“Not until yesterday,” he said. “I knew something was wrong, but she didn’t want to talk.”

“She said she doesn’t want me to move out, but-”

He cut her off. “She knows. Your brother and Tony offered to switch things around too, and she doesn’t want that, either.” 

Sarah nodded, her hand drifting down to rub her belly again. “I feel like all this one has done is cause problems,” she said. 

“She didn’t cause any of this,” Damon said. “Look, I’m not going to explain why — and you wouldn’t want to know — but it was a case that set this off. Something would have at some point, and I think we’ve all been waiting for it. At least now, Ziva hopefully will be at peace before the baby wonders why Auntie Ziva doesn’t come by.” 

“I hope so,” Sarah said. “Mom, Abby and I are outnumbered enough even with Ziva.” 

“You just focus on getting through the next few months,” Damon said. “If Ziva needs something, she’ll tell us.” 

“You’re sure?” 

Damon nodded. “She’s determined to get through this. Believe me when I say that it makes a difference.” 

“Thanks,” Sarah said. “I guess I’d better get to bed. I’m opening tomorrow, and Saturday mornings are crazy-enough shifts without sleep-walking through them.” 

She headed upstairs, surprised there was no light shining under Ziva’s door. It wasn’t quite dark out yet, but the sun was low enough in the sky to leave everything shadowed in murk. 

Sarah crawled into bed, shifting around to find a comfortable sleeping position, or as comfortable as one got these days. She’d thought Ziva’s words would keep her awake, but her future niece had her so exhausted that she was asleep within minutes. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


As the morning light started to filter into the basement, Gibbs rubbed the final rough spots off the end of the crib he’d been building for the McBaby. He rolled his eyes at the name, but even he’d taken to using the team shorthand for his future honorary granddaughter. 

At that, his thoughts turned to another little girl, one he hadn’t seen in far too long. Amira, who was now almost four years old, her curly hair no doubt almost to her waist. He hadn’t been down to visit them for almost six months. His eyes drifted to the letter on his workbench. He’d read it a dozen times since it arrived yesterday, but his brain still didn’t want to process them. 

_ Docs say it’s cancer. Lungs, maybe. Spread so far now they can’t tell where the hell it started, but they tell me I ain’t got long. I could fight it, but hell, I ain’t about to spend my last days wasting away in some hospital instead of on my beach with my girls.  _

He should go down and see Mike, or invite him up here to visit while he was still able. The team had weekend duty next weekend, though. And with Wilson subbing in for Ziva… No. Better to wait until after their weekend. Maybe actually use the comp days for the weekend to go down so nobody would know. If Mike didn’t want Layla and Amira knowing, he probably wouldn’t want the team to know. Definitely not Vance. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Tony fumbled for his phone to turn off the alarm as rosy light cast shadows across their bedroom. “I really said I wanted to go running this early?” he asked as he sat up.

“You really did,” Tim replied as he pulled shorts from the dresser and tossed a pair over. “Last weekend you complained it was too hot when we waited until later.” 

“Oh, right, I did.” Tony scrubbed a hand across his face. “At least it’s better than the treadmill.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed as he sat up. “Five miles today?” 

“Your call,” Tim said as he pulled on a shirt. “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Tony smirked and waited one beat, two. 

Tim looked over his shoulder. “Whatever you want to run — and that you think your lungs can handle,” he clarified. 

“So going out clubbing in those red leather pants you keep joking about getting is off the table?” At the McEyeroll, Tony ducked into the head for his morning inhaler dose. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two men headed out into the humid August morning, sun still low in the sky, fluffy clouds tipped with purple and pink above them. They had found some regular routes in the neighborhood since moving, but this was one of the longest runs outside Tony had done since then. The hard plastic of his rescue inhaler bounced in the small pocket on his hip, but he’d learned to tune it out once he got moving. Nope, this was just a normal run with his husband. 

They were getting to a point where they needed to circle back when Tony had a thought. “Sarah’s coffee shop will be open in a few minutes. We could finish up there, get some iced coffee and breakfast, then walk home.” 

“And check and see if Ziva told her?” Tim said. 

“You don’t want to see your little sister?” Tony asked, his tone carefully innocent. 

“She’s your little sister now, too,” Tim replied. “But you’re right. Evil Josh could be back in town already, and he’d know to look for her there.” 

“At least we know he won’t be up this early,” Tony said. 

When they got to the coffee shop, a few customers were already seated at the outdoor tables. They walked inside, which was almost empty. “Let’s stay inside,” Tony said, his voice quiet. “Easier to keep an eye on things.” 

Tim nodded. “You want your usual?” he asked. 

“And one of their frittata slices,” Tony said. “I’ll grab us a table.” He scanned the familiar layout of the coffeeshop, which had been rearranged for the summer to move some tables outside. He settled on a table where they could see people approaching from outside without the sun’s glare blinding them, plus the pick-up area inside. They couldn’t see the cash registers and ordering line, but since they could see people approaching, one of them could always go get more napkins. 

He settled down, enjoying the cool AC after the thick air outside, and waited for Tim. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Sarah heard familiar voices and looked up to see Tim and Tony walking in, soaked with sweat from a run. Runners were most of the crowd this early on a weekend morning, so she wasn’t all that surprised. They did live nearby, in the apartment she and Ziva had lived in. Would that change now? She shook off the thought and focused on making drinks. She saw her brother and brother-in-law split up, and the way Tony scanned the store made her wonder if they thought there was a threat or if it was just habit. Ziva did the same thing, and sometimes Damon. 

She knew immediately which order was theirs when it came up — Tony loved his hazelnut lattes, even iced. She wrinkled her nose. Flavored coffees were nice, but hazelnut? Not so much. 

“Is that the face you should make when you see your favorite brother?” Tim asked, his tone light. 

“How do you know Tony’s not my favorite?” she asked. 

“Ouch.” 

Sarah grinned. “Go on, sit down. It’s quiet this morning — I’ll bring your coffee and food over when it’s ready.” 

“Thanks.”

She dropped their drinks off first, then went back for the food, thinking all the while. It clicked as she picked up the plate with Tim’s ham, egg and cheese sandwich, and she rolled her eyes. 

She walked over and set down their plates. “So, did you guys decide to start Evil Josh Watch early in case he hasn’t moved on to tormenting somebody else over the summer?” 

They exchanged looks, and Sarah had to fight not to laugh. 

“You remembered he was coming back?” Tim said. 

“My pregnancy brain isn’t that bad yet,” Sarah said. “Yes, I remember that Waverley’s semester starts the same week as Georgetown Law, and I know Evil Josh’s internship was supposed to end this week.” 

“And you’re not worried?” Tony asked. 

“I’m sure he found some other bimbo in the Hamptons who will buy his lies,” Sarah said. “I’d feel bad for her, but I’m sure his inability to keep it in his pants will get him in enough trouble on his own.” 

“We’re not here on Josh Watch,” Tim said. “Something Damon said reminded us he was coming back, and I was going to mention it, just in case, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up.” 

“Somehow, I don’t think I’d be the one surprised,” Sarah said, rubbing one hand over her belly. “And if he asks, once I tell him how I agreed to be a surrogate for you so the baby could be Tony’s and still have what he calls McDNA-”

“Oooh, good one,” Tony said. 

Sarah sketched a quick curtsy. “Coming from the king of McNames, thank you,” she said. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s about the point he decides he doesn’t know me and runs away.” 

“Especially once he realizes he’s competing with a law student who plans to go into Naval intelligence?” Tim asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m not getting involved with anybody until I stop looking like a beached whale,” Sarah said. “Josh knows that. Cooper, not Evil Josh.” 

“You’ve talked about it?” Tony said. 

“Not everybody’s allergic to talking,” Tim said. 

Sarah snickered. “It came up before he knew I was your sister, when he realized I was pregnant and started to apologize for flirting with somebody who was taken.” She smiled at the memory. “Once he found out about his evil twin, we talked a little more, and decided we’d revisit in the spring, assuming we’re both still interested.” 

She looked around. “I’ve got to get back to work.” Once behind the counter, she lost herself for a few minutes making drinks. The next time she had a chance to look up, the coffeeshop was more crowded, and a familiar face was walking in the front door. 

Sarah looked over, and her brothers were still there. “Oh, this ought to be good,” she said under her breath. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn’t intend to leave everybody hanging for this long after the last chapter, but things have been a bit crazy the past couple of weeks. No cliffhangers this time, I promise. Posting might be a bit slow the next few weeks — I’ve been working different hours to help my team cover later into the night, and I haven’t quite got a good routine that lets me herd plot bunnies *and* run before work. There’s a bit of an Easter egg in this chapter, but don’t worry if you miss it. It’ll pop up again before too long. 

Ziva woke to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. She had expected her sleep to be plagued by nightmares, but instead, her body seemed like it had just shut down. She was pretty sure she was still in the exact position as the night before. 

When she stretched, she was sure of it as muscles complained about moving from long-held positions. This was not bad. She had been through this before. It was better than nightmares. 

Still, even after she stretched, she did not get up. She had no place to be. She could lie here and not do anything. The room slowly brightened as the sun rose, and finally Ziva rolled to sitting. She must get up, if only to use the bathroom. Once she was moving, it was as though she could not stop. After her shower, she dressed in a T-shirt, but hesitated before pulling out a pair of shorts. She was not going anywhere today, and Damon had seen her scars. She had no problem with people seeing the ones on her back. She needed to find that same headplace — no, space — for the ones on her legs. It did not matter that people could see them, or that they would be able to tell that they continued up her legs into areas covered by her shorts. If she told herself that enough, it would become true. 

Ziva was done running, for anything other than exercise. She looked herself in the mirror until she could see it in her own eyes: She was done avoiding her past. Gibbs could not. Ducky could not. Tony could not. Now it was her turn. 

She headed downstairs, smiling at the sound of a low voice and Jethro’s grumbles, whines and barks in the kitchen. 

She stood in the doorway and watched as Jethro begged for more bacon. 

“Not happening,” Damon told the German shepherd.

“Tony has told him the same thing,” Ziva said. “I believe Jethro still got bacon then, too.” 

Damon’s head jerked up, and she smiled. “Did you leave any for me?” she asked. 

She walked into the kitchen, then stopped at the look on his face. She knew that look. He was trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. “I am—” She stopped. “I will be fine,” she amended. “Today, I am enjoying a Saturday with no case and nothing I must do.” 

“Nothing?” Damon raised one eyebrow. 

“Unless you know something I do not.” 

“Tony and McGee said something about a game night before Josh’s internship ends, but that was the first time they’d thought of the idea, so I can’t tell you anything else,” Damon said, standing. “Now, if you’ll keep my bacon out of furry jaws, I’ll get you some breakfast.” 

“You do not have to,” Ziva said. But she took a seat at the table anyway and distracted Jethro with pats and ear scratches. “Thank you.” 

“I made extra,” he said. “I figured I could heat it up tomorrow if neither of you ate it today.” He returned to the table and set a plate down in front of her with eggs, potatoes and bacon. 

“ _ Toda _ ,” Ziva said. “It is hard to believe the summer is almost over.” She stopped, fork halfway to her mouth. “Evil Josh-” 

“Is probably back this week,” Damon said. “McGee was going to talk to Sarah, but they don’t think he’ll be a problem.” 

Ziva nodded and continued eating. “Still, I think I might go to the coffee shop today and spend some time there. They are supposed to be relaxing.” 

“Overwatch for Sarah’s evil ex isn’t exactly relaxing,” Damon said. 

“I am not going for that,” Ziva said. “Or at least, not only that.” She paused to think about her words. “When I spoke with the doctor yesterday, I realized that I am no longer in a war zone. I am no longer a spy. I could go out and relax, not be on guard the entire time. But I am not sure I know how. It has been my life for too long.” She thought back to a burned-out storefront and a hidden door.

_ “It was merely a reflex.” _

_ “Ah. In America, we call that jumping,” Paula had said.  _

_ “In Mossad, we call it the difference between life and death.” _

“I do not need those reflexes I once did, not when I am not on a case,” Ziva said. “But what has become second nature takes time to unlearn. The coffee shop is familiar, and tea relaxes me. It is a natural first step.” 

“You going solo, or do you want company?” 

“I do not need somebody to stand watch,” Ziva said, stung. 

“I was thinking more like spending time with my favorite lady,” Damon said. “Not a date, not if you don’t want or aren’t ready.” 

“A date,” Ziva said. She thought about it. “Yes, I would like that very much.” 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


McGee finished his breakfast sandwich and sipped his iced coffee. Then Tony got this look of unholy glee on his face. 

“What?” McGee asked. He knew that look. It never meant anything good. 

“Our favorite intern just showed up, and he’s looking much less scruffy than I ever looked on a Saturday morning in college,” Tony said, his voice far quieter than his expression. 

“Not just in college,” McGee retorted. 

“Hey! I resemble that remark.” Tony smirked. “He’s seen us.” 

“You thought he’d miss us? After a summer working for Gibbs?” 

“No, I figured he’d see us,” Tony said. “Here he comes.” 

McGee turned just as Josh set his messenger bag down with a thunk on a chair at the table next to them. “Are you carrying books or bricks in there?” 

“I figured I’d get a head start on my law school reading,” Josh said. “And this place has better AC than my apartment.” 

“And it has nothing to do with McSis working here?” Tony said. “Not buying it.” 

McGee hid his grin as the tips of Josh’s ears matched his auburn hair, but the kid also stood his ground. Good. 

“I didn’t say the AC was the only reason,” Josh replied. “I’m in here most days. What are you guys doing here?”

“Breakfast, after our run,” McGee said. “We were in the area.” 

“And you wanted to remind Sarah about the semester starting?” Josh asked. 

“Oh, she remembered,” Tony said. “In fact, I almost wish we could be around when your evil twin does show up, just for the show.” He paused. “McVoyeur, remember the chick fight?”

McGee knew his grin had to be at least as big as Tony’s. “He’s got an iPhone. It could work.” 

“You two want to start making sense?” Josh asked. 

“Back around the time we met you, McAuthor here had a fancy new phone, with video,” Tony said. “We had a case, dead sailor, where two fiancees showed up.” 

“Two?” Josh said. “Did one of them do it?”

“No, that would be his girlfriend’s husband, who also buried him alive, then unburied him,” McGee said, enjoying the expression on Josh’s face. “But before we knew that, the two fiancees ran into each other outside the elevator and got into it. Rolling around on the ground, pulling hair, everything. Gibbs and Ziva had to break it up. And I caught it on video.” 

“And Gibbs let you live?” Josh’s eyes were round. 

McGee snickered. “He didn’t even break my phone.” 

“So you’re thinking if Sarah’s ex shows up, I should tape it for you two?” Josh asked. 

“If he’s stupid enough to escalate, it would mean video evidence,” Tony said. “We never had enough to take it to the cops before.” 

“And you’re the only one who could catch it on video,” McGee said. “He knows all of us. Even Burley got pulled into Josh Watch — sorry, Evil Josh Watch — back in the spring.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying it that way,” Josh said. “I know you’re talking about him, not me.” 

“Yeah, well, I wish we could stop talking about him,” McGee said. He thought for a second. “We both need to go home — we’re pretty ripe and Sarah’s going to tell us off for stinking up the place if we stay any longer.” The chirp of a text message interrupted him. 

“Gibbs?” Tony asked. 

McGee read it and shook his head. “Abby,” he said. “She and Jimmy want to know what’s going on.” He texted back, and after Abby replied, returned her text. “OK, they’re going to meet us here this afternoon,” he said. “We can fill them in on what they need to know.” He turned back to Josh. “If you’re still here, and interested in a break from the law books, after that maybe we all can do some brainstorming and see if we can figure out what Vance is up to.” 

“I’ll be most of the day, unless it gets so crowded that they start looking at me like they want me to leave,” Josh said. “But most people prefer to sit outside, so I don’t think it will be a problem.” 

“Now that we’ve got a plan, come on, Tony. Let’s go home and shower.” As soon as his husband opened his mouth, McGee Gibbs-smacked him. “Whatever you were about to say, Josh doesn’t want to hear it.” 

“No, I definitely don’t,” Josh said, grimacing. “See you guys later.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

When Eileen went to leave the house that morning, Sean was walking on the treadmill they’d gotten. 

“You’ll stop if it gets hard to breathe?” she asked before she left. 

“Scout’s honor,” Sean said. “Go on, find somebody to play against besides Jethro and Tony.” 

She drove to the local Y and ran a few laps on the track to warm up before heading to the open gym session. The worn Annapolis T-shirt she’d worn was already damp with sweat. It was all adults, most of them 40 or older. The teens must be using outside hoops. She grabbed an extra basketball from the rack and did a few dribbling drills along the sideline with one eye on the courts. One game looked like it was wrapping up, and there didn’t seem to be another group waiting to take over that court, so she worked her way across the gym. 

The high fives and trash talking by the winning team only lasted a couple of minutes, and then she was able to start some shooting drills. 

“Interested in a game?” 

Eileen looked over to see a woman a few years younger than her on the sidelines. “Sure,” she replied. She stopped dribbling and walked over. “I’m Eileen,” she said. 

“Jocelyn,” the woman replied. She checked her watch. “I’ve got about an hour before my daughter’s swim lessons finish and then I have to drive her to whatever she has next, but we’ll probably only be able to keep the court for half that.” 

“First to 21?” Eileen asked. She offered the other woman the ball. “You can start off.” 

“Sounds good.” Jocelyn set down her water bottle outside the line and walked up to the top of the key. 

Eileen lined up to guard her, and they started. The first few rounds, she was mostly getting a feel for Jocelyn’s style, and she was pretty sure the other woman was doing the same. 

“You’re Navy?” Jocelyn asked at one point, nodding toward Eileen’s shirt.

“My husband was until a few months ago,” she said. “Our son’s civilian, but works for the Navy.” 

“My husband was Navy, too,” Jocelyn said. “Parker didn’t go to the Academy, though. He was ROTC.” She took a shot, but Eileen was only able to tip it away, and Jocelyn recovered the ball. 

“Mine too,” Eileen said. “He taught at the Academy for more than 15 years, though, until he went on terminal leave.” She stole the ball, pivoted and got an easy layup. 

“What does your son do?” 

“NCIS,” she said. “He gets seasick, so serving wasn’t ever really his dream.” They played on for another fifteen minutes before Eileen scored the final point. 

“Good game,” she said. “It’s nice to play against somebody who isn’t almost six inches taller than me for a change.” 

“Husband or son?” Jocelyn asked. 

“Neither Sean nor Tim play all that well,” Eileen said. “My son-in-law played college ball, though, and our next-door neighbor isn’t bad. Although I usually beat him.” She picked up her water bottle as they walked off the court. 

“I’m not surprised,” Jocelyn said. “You’re good. I  _ am _ surprised I haven’t seen you in our ladies’ league.” She stopped. “Oh, you said your husband just retired. New to the area?”

“Yes, a few months ago. Tony, my son-in-law, mentioned the league here to me, so I was planning to join up.” She sipped some water. “He seemed to think it would be a good fit.” 

“It’s a good mix,” Jocelyn said. “Most of the players are younger, and a lot are former college players, but you’re a match for them.” 

“I played in college,” Eileen said. “Old Dominion, a few years before they won the national title. Those seniors were freshmen my senior year.” 

Jocelyn stopped and a wide smile spread across her face. “I might have to make a couple of calls, see if I can get you on our team,” she said. “We need a couple more people, and some of the younger players tend to underestimate anybody with gray hair.”

Eileen laughed. “Count me in. I like it when people underestimate me, especially on the court. It makes it more satisfying to prove them wrong.” 

“I’ve got to get Chrissy in a minute, but let me get your information to pass along to Renee, our captain,” Jocelyn said, pulling out her phone. “Actually, let me just give you my number, and you can text it to me, or I’m going to have to listen to ‘Mo-om, you’re late’ for the next 15 minutes.” She rolled her eyes. 

They exchanged numbers and headed to the parking lot. A girl with wavy blonde hair in a braid was waiting by the front desk. “Mom, come on,” she said. 

“Have a nice day, Mrs. McGee, Mrs. Wayne,” the teen behind the front desk said as they passed. 

As Eileen headed for her car, she smiled. The kids and the extended Gibblet family were great, but it felt good to make a friend of her own. After almost two decades in Annapolis, her skills at settling into a new location and finding new friends were rustier than she’d realized, but this was a first step toward establishing a circle of friends who didn’t think head-smacks were normal communication. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

In Georgetown, Ducky sat at the antique desk that had been one of a few pieces he’d kept from the house in Reston. It had been his great-great-grandfather’s, and the cherry wood was remarkably well preserved after all these years, even after it had been shipped across the Atlantic when he relocated to America. 

He had the case file from Jethro spread out on the gleaming wood surface, his legal pad filled with pages of notes. Mostly they were questions, but he’d drawn some conclusions with the information NCIS had already obtained, plus some additional information he’d gathered online. He was no Timothy, but Jimmy’s tutorials on social media had not gone amiss. 

The petty officer was a curious case, and like Jethro, he was uncertain as to what type of case it was. A sociopath, drawn to women he could manipulate into death? Or an innocent who merely was unable to figure out that he was drawn to a type that was healthy neither for himself nor for her? Perhaps the answer lay not in the man whose life was spread before him, but in profiles of the women, both those who had died and, if the team could locate them, some who had been in Dawes’ web and survived. 

Ducky made more notes, then set down his pencil and sighed. Enough. It was the weekend, and there was a chamber music concert that evening to enjoy, once he had cleared his mind of the bad taste this case left behind.

He pulled down the rolltop portion of the desk, hiding the materials he’d studied within, and turned the small, brass key in the lock. It was unsuitable for classified material of course, but this was not a sensitive case. If it was, he would be in his desk chair in Autopsy right now, not wondering if the bakery down the block would still have fresh croissants. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life continues to be somewhat crazy, but I think is finally settling into the summer normal. Whatever normal is in 2020. My company announced that we’re WFH until January, so my new goal is finishing what’s turning into another epic by then. I’ve got vacation coming up and my goal is to get far enough ahead that I can post a chapter a week through a move I have coming in the fall. But if there isn’t a chapter on a given week, moving chaos is probably why. 

After Tony and McGee left, Josh tried to settle into his reading. He figured he might as well start with criminal law, since he was still working for NCIS. He cracked open the book and started reading. He hadn’t gotten more than a few pages in before he paused to pull out a pen, notebook and highlighters. 

By the time he’d filled the third page of notes, his coffee mug was empty. He looked up, but most customers were still choosing the outside tables and the line at the register wasn’t too long. 

While he waited to get a refill, he rolled out his shoulders. Analysis all day yesterday and reading all day today was going to turn him into a hunchback if he wasn’t careful. And probably more analysis on Monday, since everything he’d found so far was raising more questions than answers. 

He ordered, paid, and headed down to wait for Sarah to hand him his coffee. She shifted and winced, but Josh knew better than to say anything. 

“Did you scare my brothers off?” she asked him as she handed him his drink. 

Josh laughed. “No, they’ll be back later to meet Jimmy and Abby here. I think they were more worried you’d kick them out for stinking up the place.” 

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “They were pretty ripe.” 

“You have a break coming up anytime soon?” he asked. 

She looked over at the clock. “Half an hour, maybe? Depends on how busy we get.” Sarah was already working on more drinks, so Josh left her to it. 

As he sat back down, he couldn’t quite drag his mind back to studying though. Sure, he and Sarah weren’t dating, not officially, but they weren’t just friends either. The idea of going out to a club and possibly hooking up didn’t seem as appealing as it did at Princeton. 

Stop. Focus. Get some reading done before Sarah goes on break. Josh pretended he had Gibbs waiting for him to find an answer in the book and started reading. 

He blinked as something jerked him from his thoughts. No, not something. Sarah, who had just sat down across from him. 

“How’s the studying going?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “It’s interesting to see from this side after a summer working on the law enforcement side,” he said. “I won’t be doing much criminal law, I don’t think, since that’s not the logical path to take if I’m headed to ONI.” 

“And are you always logical?” she asked, rolling one shoulder. 

“Practical, at least,” he said. “Or I try to be. Something I learned from my dad.” 

“It must be a Navy thing,” she said. She leaned back in the chair, looking exhausted. Not that he was going to mention that. 

“So, any idea what’s going on with Ziva?” Josh asked. “I feel like I know just about enough to stick my foot in it, and I don’t want to do that.” 

Sarah grimaced, her hand drifting down to rub her belly. “I do, but I’m not sure what she’d be OK with me telling you.” She paused for a minute. “Can you…” She started again. “Damon mentioned that it was a case that triggered this, but he said I wouldn’t want to know details. But you’re not the only one worried about saying the wrong thing. What was the case about?” 

Josh thought back to the beginning of the week, which seemed like years ago at this point. What case had they— Oh. That one. Yeah, this was going to be awkward. “The case wasn’t anything special, a sailor who had been stabbed that we closed as soon as Abby ran the fingerprints on the knife,” he said. “But—” Really, really awkward. “Before we knew that, we had to figure out if it was relevant that the sailor was into BDSM, and, um, some of the team had to explain what that was to the rest of us, and anything else is probably TMI.” 

Sarah had put her hands over her ears while he was talking. “Not listening,” she said. 

Josh laughed. “Yeah, to steal an Abby-ism, I needed a brain brillo after that whole conversation.” 

Sarah dropped her hands. “Wait, was Gibbs part of this discussion?” Her eyes widened. “Was he explaining?” 

“No!” Josh’s brain momentarily went offline. “OK, now I need another brain brillo,” he said. “Anyway, Ziva thought the sailor had been tortured until … the people who did the explaining explained, so that’s probably what triggered her.” 

“The people who did the explaining?” Sarah raised an eyebrow, just like her older brother did. “Now I am kind of curious.” 

Josh shook his head. “The entire team was there except for Vance, and I promise you, you don’t want to start figuring out who has experience.” 

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Which means Tim-” She stopped. “You’re right, I don’t want to think about it.” She leaned forward. “So, were you one of the ones explaining or listening to the explanation?” 

Josh could feel his face turning red. “Listening, definitely listening.” He realized how that sounded. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it, I’ve just never-”

Sarah started laughing. “It’s OK, you don’t need to prove anything to me,” she said. “That was mostly just me messing with you.” 

Josh rolled his eyes. “Just for that, I should tell you. Then you can be as weirded out as I was.” He shook his head. “I mean, you’re used to their insanity, but I’ve spent four years thinking of Tony as the adult who helped me get my head on straight after my dad was killed, and the rest of the team as a bunch of cops who caught the bastard who did it. I’ve only known how weird they are for the past couple of months.” 

Sarah snickered. “Oh, don’t make me laugh again or I’m going to pee my pants.” She stopped and dropped her head to the table. “I did not just say that out loud.” Her voice was a little muffled by her hands. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Josh said. He hesitated, then reached over to put a hand on her arm. “If you want, I can pretend I didn’t hear it.” 

She turned her head so one eye was looking at him. “Yes, please.” She sighed. “But I do need to make a pit stop before my break’s over.” She sat up and put her hands on the table, pushing herself to standing. “Thank you for telling me — and not telling me.” 

Words from earlier in the week echoed in Josh’s ear. “Yeah, um, can you pretend I didn’t tell you?” he asked. “Because I kind of promised I wouldn’t because of the whole TMI issue.” 

“I have already forgotten we had this conversation,” Sarah said. She winced and rubbed her side. “Stop kicking,” she said, but Josh could tell she wasn’t talking to him. 

Sarah walked away, and Josh breathed a sigh of relief. A little bit of him had wondered if this was another thing Sarah and McGee had in common, like their snarky streak. 

And he really needed to stop thinking about Sarah and sex because they’d said they were tabling that conversation until the spring and he should not be the one to bring it back up. Wait, should she even be having sex while she’s pregnant? Josh squeezed his eyes shut. He really should not be thinking about that because that was completely inappropriate to ask. 

Think about something else. Like the cold cases. Yes, that was a good topic. If Tony, McGee, Jimmy, and Abby were going to come in this afternoon and possibly brainstorm, he should figure out what he could add. 

There were definitely some common threads to the cases. A few agents’ names popped up multiple times, and all of them had been stationed in California. Josh flipped to a new page in his notebook and started scribbling things down. He needed one of them to explain more about how NCIS agents moved around. Most of the team had been at the Navy Yard for a while, from everything he’d gathered, but then that one agent yesterday — Burley — had been reassigned and it sounded like he was going to be reassigned again in a few months. So it wasn’t like the Navy, where postings only tended to last a few years, but it wasn’t like there was no movement, either. 

Could there be something to find based on where the agents had been assigned? Josh started writing more questions. Hopefully Abby and the guys would be able to make some sense of them. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

The last time Gibbs had spent any time on the front porch for no reason was back when his girls were around, but he found himself sitting on the wooden swing with a beer staring out into the street. A scrap of notebook paper with measurements penciled in and a few sketches sat next to him. 

He tipped the bottle back, the same Mexican brand he’d drink in the cantina with Mike back during what Tony persisted in calling his margarita retirement. Not his favorite, but he had a couple of bottles left from the last time the team had been over. 

He could swing by the lumberyard today, pick up what he needed. Better to start now and not have to worry about rushing at the end. 

Eileen’s car pulled in next door, and she got out. Her ponytail and gym clothes explained where she’d been. She waved, and he lifted his bottle in response. 

“Is that the ‘I just finished cutting the grass’ beer, or do you prefer to drink first while convincing yourself to cut it?” she asked when she walked over. 

Gibbs looked around his yard, the grass not even close to shaggy, and lifted one eyebrow. 

“It’s not bourbon,” she said. “And you don’t seem like the beer type to me.” 

Gibbs shrugged. “Good game?” he asked. 

“Some one-on-one, but I might have found a team to play with,” Eileen said. “She’s a Navy wife, too, although I didn’t ask where her husband was stationed.” 

“Around here, likely either Anacostia, Bethesda or the Navy Yard,” Gibbs said. “The Naval Research Lab is mostly civilian, and it’s just Marines at 8th and I.” 

She nodded. “New project?” she asked, pointing to the paper next to him. 

He gave a short nod. 

“I thought you’d finished everything for the baby,” she said. “None of the girls are the flower type.” She raised an eyebrow, and now Gibbs knew where McGee got that from. “Or is this for a lady friend?” 

“Friend, yes,” Gibbs said. “No lady. They’re poppies.” He gave a half-smile at the reaction Mike would have to somebody thinking he was a woman. 

“Oh,” Eileen said. “As in an ‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow,’ kind of project?” 

Gibbs didn’t say anything. 

“This is somebody the kids know, and you don’t want them knowing, isn’t it?” Eileen said. She paused. “Jack?” 

Gibbs shook his head.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “But it is somebody the kids know.” 

He nodded. 

“My lips are sealed,” she said. “But if you need to talk…” 

Gibbs gave a short laugh. 

“You know what I meant,” she said, but without heat. “We’re right next door, and with as many things as I’m sure the kids don’t tell us, we can promise we won’t tell them.” 

He lifted his beer in a salute, then drained it. “Appreciate it,” he said. After she’d headed home, Gibbs went inside. He had plenty of time for a trip to the lumberyard after lunch. Better to get this done before Jack returned from his visit to Stillwater. He’d called yesterday to say that he and Cal had almost finished working out the details so Cal could run the store and work toward buying it from Jack. 

Gibbs couldn’t quite imagine the store without Jack behind the register, but it sounded like he still planned to go back every month for a week or so. He said it was to give Cal a break, but Gibbs was pretty sure Jack just wasn’t ready to let the store go, not quite. Or maybe he wanted to make sure he had a built-in break from his son. Having Sean and Eileen next door had given Jack enough company that he didn’t talk Gibbs’ ear off, but they were two stubborn men who’d been living alone a long time, and were set in their ways. 

Jack would want to know what Gibbs was building in the basement. Hell, keeping this a secret wasn’t going to be easy.  _ Mike, I’m not ready for this. _

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ziva let Damon take her hand as they walked from the car to the coffee shop. It was a little thing, but something simple she had not really ever allowed herself before. Only when playing a role undercover. 

“They have a couple of board games in that back corner, on the shelf,” Damon said. “I think Scrabble is one of them if you want to play.” They rounded the street corner to the front of the shop. He held the door open for her, and Ziva did not tell him not to bother. For once, she could just relax and not keep pushing to show she was not weak. 

Once inside, she answered his question. “That would be nice,” she said. “We must have it at home, for Tony and McGee did not take the board games when they moved, but I have not played since our last game night.” 

“I’m not a Scrabble expert, but any time you want to play, let me know,” Damon said. 

She nodded and looked around. “I see Josh,” she said, smiling. “I should be surprised, but I am not.” 

“I’m actually surprised he’s the only other person here,” Damon said. “It seems like everybody has been a regular here since the evil ex got us in the habit.” He stood at the end of the line. “Your usual?” 

“The jasmine tea today, I think,” Ziva said. “Hot, not iced.” She looked around. “I shall get a table, if you do not mind.” 

“I’ll be over with the drinks in a minute,” he said. 

She nodded and headed toward the seating area, but did not disturb the studying intern. She remembered too well the focus she had needed while studying for her citizenship test earlier in the year. There was a small, round table in the corner near the armchairs and couch where they had sat the night she, Damon, Abby and Jimmy met when Damon had first returned. It was against the wall, but pulled out a bit, she and Damon could sit next to each other and both could see the room. That was one reflex she knew she should keep. They all had it, even McGee, though she could recall when he did not. 

Damon joined her a few minutes later, but he was not smiling. 

“Something is wrong?” she asked. 

“Not wrong,” Damon said. “Sarah told me Tony and McGee were here earlier, and they’re meeting Abby and Jimmy back here at some point this afternoon, but I don’t know when.” He hesitated. “She didn’t know, but said Josh might. I can go ask him, if you want to make sure we leave before that.” 

Ziva thought for a minute. “No, I should be able to handle that,” she said. 

“There’s no ‘should’ to this,” Damon said. 

She puzzled over his words for a minute. “Oh,” she said. “No, I did not mean it that way. I meant I think I will be all right.” She sighed. “English is a most confusing language sometimes.” 

“You’re sure?” Damon asked. “You don’t have to conquer everything this first weekend.” 

Ziva stopped to think, really think. “I am not certain,” she said after a minute. “And I expect one thing they plan to discuss is what you told them, which might be awkward with me here. But I would rather see Abby here in a place where I can leave if I need to, than at a game night, or something else where I cannot.” She thought through the possibilities again. “You should, perhaps, let Tony and McGee know we are here, but tell them I am not asking them to change anything on my account.” She met Damon’s gaze, but also tried to determine if she was being truthful with herself. She believed so, but she would not truly know until she saw Abby. Still, she should do this. If she was not ready, she could leave. And she would have something to tell Dr. Rojas on Monday. 

For now, she pushed the idea aside and let herself inhale the fragrant steam from the jasmine tea. She was an American woman, out on a date, and she had nowhere pressing to be.

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

  
  


Sarah looked at the clock. Only twenty minutes and she could clock out. She stretched, trying to relieve the ache in her— Oh, no. Today did not need him. 

She pulled out her phone and texted Josh, then tucked it away before anybody could see. By the time Evil Josh and his good buddy Brandon were at the register, she was innocently making drinks. She looked over toward where Josh was sitting and he was looking over, cell phone propped against his stack of law books. He smiled at her, but she didn’t dare smile back. He was not getting dragged into this if she had anything to say about it. 

She focused on the orders in front of her, knowing as soon as it came up which was his. Sarah was precise, making his drink perfectly. He wasn’t going to get any reason to complain. 

As soon as she finished, she set them on the counter and called out their names. 

“Hey, Sarah,” Brandon said. “I haven’t seen you-” He stopped. “I guess it’s been longer than I thought.” He stared at her. 

“What are you-” Josh stopped, gaping. “I guess I’m not the only one who moved on quickly,” he said after a beat, snark threaded through his voice. 

Sarah couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Cheating on your girlfriend is not ‘moving on quickly,’ it’s the reason I dumped your sorry ass,” she said. She turned to Brandon and smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t see through it the way Tim did. “I agreed to be a surrogate for my brother and his husband,” she said, adding the McDNA line that had made Tony laugh earlier.

“So you’re a brood mare now?” her ex said. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” she said. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I have drinks to make.” She pivoted and headed back toward the register. As she wiped down the counters, during the lull, she could see the jerk and his friend leaving, drinks in hand. Good. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I didn’t disappear. Moving, plus a fried hard drive, plus wrapping up the final chapter in the triple crossover I left hanging for five years, ate my time for the past several weeks. I’m now moved and have my daily writing time back in my schedule now that summer is over, so posting should be somewhat more regular. 

Tony’s phone dinged a few seconds before McGee heard the shower start running. 

“Tim, can you see if that’s important?” Tony called from the bathroom. 

McGee picked up the phone to see Damon’s message, then walked over and stuck his head in the bathroom. “Damon and Ziva are at the coffee shop, and expect to be there for a while, but Damon said Ziva doesn’t mind if we’re meeting Jimmy and Abby there.” 

Tony stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain. “You believe her?”

McGee thought about it for a minute. “I think she believes it will be OK,” he said slowly. “I just don’t know how accurate her judgement is about this stuff right now.” He paused. “But I think we have to follow her lead on this one.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Let’s at least give Jimmy and Abby a heads-up, see if they want to meet a couple of blocks away and get briefed before we all go get caffeinated.” 

McGee nodded and backed out of the bathroom, grabbing his own phone to text Damon, then Jimmy. That done, he stripped and was waiting for the shower when Tony got out. 

“Maybe I should stay and help you get clean,” Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“You can wait five minutes,” McGee said, smirking back. “Go on, dry off.” 

When he walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later, he wasn’t surprised to see Tony sitting naked on their bed, arms crossed behind his head as he leaned back against the headboard. 

“We’ve got two hours until we meet Jimmy and Abby,” Tony said. 

“And you’ve got plans for that time,” McGee said, dropping his towel to the floor. 

“It’s been a long, stressful week, Tim,” Tony said. “I think some stress relief is just what Dr. DiNozzo ordered.” 

McGee snorted as he walked over and stood next to bed, watching his husband’s eyes track him. “Stress relief?” he said. “That’s one word for it.” He climbed on the bed until he was right in front of Tony. “So, what exactly did you have in mind?” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Josh got the text from Sarah, and set up his phone with the video ready to record. He wasn’t completely sure it would pick up the audio, but he couldn’t do anything about that without attracting attention. He flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. Notes plus whatever audio he could get would help, if this turned ugly. 

Sarah’s face was serious, and she looked completely focused on making drinks as the two guys moved toward the pickup counter. Josh wondered which one was the evil ex. Then they started talking to her, and he didn’t have to wonder. Of course it was the slick-looking one. 

He managed not to smirk when Sarah rolled her eyes, but the ex-boyfriend’s comment was harder to ignore.  _ Keep your temper. Punching him won’t solve anything. _ But even as he told himself that, he still wanted to. 

As they turned away from the counter, he kept the video recording. 

“She’s such a bitch,” the ex said. “I don’t know what I saw in her.” 

“Serena is better anyway,” his friend said. “Certainly less nosy.” 

“Oh, if she asks, I just got back in town tonight,” the ex said. 

“She’ll buy that?” 

“She always has before,” the ex said. “I’m not letting anything get in the way this time — my father spent the summer asking when I was going to announce our engagement. I can’t do that if she breaks up with me, too.” 

They were out of earshot before Josh could hear the friend’s reply, and he took a quick sip of coffee to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. Evil was giving the guy too much credit. Sleazy was more like it. He stopped the video recording, and wondered if there was some way to warn the jerk’s poor girlfriend.

He was still wondering that when Sarah eased herself into the seat across from him half an hour later. 

“Done already?” he asked. 

“Already?” she said. “It’s after noon.” 

Josh shook his head as he checked the time. “Crim law ate more of my brain than I thought,” he said. He looked across the table at her. “It sounded like the jerk might be done with you.” He filled her in on the comments after the two guys had walked away from the counter, though not the bit about the engagement pressure. He’d see what Tony and McGee had to say about that. “And that last comment to you was really uncalled for.” 

“What, a brood mare?” Sarah said. She rolled her eyes. “I’m just glad Tim and Tony didn’t hear that, or Josh would be bleeding and they’d both probably get arrested for assault.” 

“Gibbs could get them out of it,” he said. 

“Maybe,” Sarah said. “I’d rather not find out. He’s moved on, and so have I.” She smiled. “So, how’s the studying going?” 

“I’d rather pull an all-nighter for Gibbs than keep reading,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong; It’s interesting. But after a summer spent trying to figure out puzzles, just trying to cram information into my brain is less interesting than a case.” 

She laughed. “Don’t say that where Vance or Gibbs can hear you, or you might find yourself recruited.” 

“Only because Gibbs doesn’t want another lawyer in the world,” he retorted, and changed the subject. “So, your brothers are coming back later, and meeting Jimmy and Abby. Are you sticking around or fleeing?” 

“I should stay long enough to tell them Evil Josh is gone,” Sarah said. She yawned. “Besides, I’m not ready to stand back up again.” 

He closed the book he’d been reading. “I definitely don’t mind an excuse to stop studying,” he said. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ducky settled at the kitchen table, scones acquired, and sipped his tea as he unfolded the paper. Setting aside the main section, he turned first to the arts, then to metro. As he paged through the paper, his usual weekend morning ritual allowed him to push away the last of his questions about the young sailor Jethro requested he analyze. 

He saved the section of the paper he perused the most closely for last: the obituaries. He’d learned years ago that they tended to spark questions in his mind about at least one of the deaths, thoughts that would distract him from enjoying the rest of the newspaper. So they were the final pages he read. 

As always, he began by scanning the names, to see if any were familiar. He tried not to think about how many more days that was the case now compared to twenty years ago. That was the price one paid for the privilege of aging, alas. 

One name caught his eye, and he began reading. Louise Hampton, 83, after a long illness. He was not at all surprised to see Jordan’s name listed as her sole survivor. It had been more than a year since he and Jordan had been able to see each other, as their aging mothers began demanding more time and care. Just as his load began to lighten once Mother moved into the facility, her mother’s condition worsened, and she had left her job as medical examiner for the county to care for her. She had begun teaching two classes at Georgetown Medical during the hours the care nurses were at her home with her mother, but that was the last time they had been in touch, except for a condolence card several weeks after his mother died. He had never placed an obituary, but he hadn’t been surprised that Jordan had learned of Mother’s death. 

She’d written a brief note, and he’d called. She hadn’t had long to speak, and it was clear that even as his load had lessened, hers was growing. 

The wake for her mother was the following afternoon, with the funeral Monday morning. He should go. He knew only too well the mix of grief and relief that came when a loved one who had been so very ill passes, leaving the caregiving family member with a lighter load, yet a heavier heart. 

He’d quite missed spending time with Jordan, who was one of the few women he’d dated in recent years who knew the rest of his extended family. He considered all the changes since they last had seen one another, and rather suspected she would be equal parts amused and fascinated by the developments since then. He looked forward to telling her of them, and seeing her reaction. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Abby looked at Jimmy as they caught sight of Tony and McGee walking toward them. “They’re smiling,” she said. “That means it can’t be too bad, can it?” 

She felt his hand squeeze hers. “Abbs, just … remember to listen to them, until they say whatever they have to say,” Jimmy replied. 

“I know,” she replied. “If I don’t, stop me?”

He nodded. 

As they met the guys, Tony steered them toward benches at the edge of the pocket park. “We probably want to sit down for this discussion,” he said, but his tone was light. 

“Tony…” Abby chewed her lower lip. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not good,” McGee said. “But it’s not … unexpectedly bad, mostly.” 

“Mostly?” Jimmy asked, as Abby intertwined her fingers together. “What does that mean?” 

Tony sighed. “It means that most of what we need to tell you is something we already guessed: They beat and raped Ziva several times while she was in Somalia.” 

Abby swallowed the sob that wanted to rise in her throat because Tony was right. They figured that. Hearing it confirmed was hard, but not impossible to process. “So what’s the rest of it?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady. 

McGee reached out and took her writhing fingers in his, looking her in the eye. “Abbs, there’s one thing that not everybody knows, and right now Ziva doesn’t want everybody to know. But you, and Jimmy, and Sarah, you need to know.” His green eyes were big and she focused on those. 

“Why just us?” Jimmy asked. 

“Abbs, what we’re about to tell you, don’t try and talk to Ziva about it. She’s not ready yet. When she is, if she wants to, she’ll come to you,” McGee said. 

“Timmy, stop trying to make this easier and just tell me,” she said, her stomach churning. 

But it was Tony’s voice that shattered her heart. 

“They raped her, they got her pregnant, and then they beat her so hard she miscarried,” he said. “Now the doctors don’t think she can have children.” 

This time, she couldn’t stop the sob that rose in her throat, and McGee pulled her forward into one of his Timmy hugs, as she felt Jimmy’s hand rubbing her back. 

“And we’ve been going on about trying to make bat-gremlins,” Jimmy said. “I’m surprised Gibbs hasn’t head-slapped me.” 

“Gibbs doesn’t know,” Tony said. 

Abby pulled back from Timmy’s arms. “Gibbs knows everything,” she said. 

“Well, OK, maybe psychic Gibbs knows, but this is one thing nobody’s told him,” Tony said. “She told Damon, and asked him to tell us so we could tell the people who need to know. As far as we’re concerned, that’s you two and Sarah, mostly for practical reasons.” 

“You’re not going to tell Gibbs?” Abby said. 

“He’s already shot the bastard,” Tony replied. “He can’t do anything else, and the Boss doesn’t do well with bad news he can’t do anything about.” 

McGee shifted from his heels back up to sitting on the park bench opposite them. “Just … don’t mention bat-gremlins or anything related to that around her,” he said. “Not right now.” 

“And don’t treat her like she’s broken or damaged,” Tony said. 

“Is there anything we  _ can _ do?” Jimmy asked, and she felt his arm wrap around her back. “We want to help.” 

“Ziva and Damon are probably at the coffee shop now,” Tony said. “Just treat this like a normal Saturday.” 

Abby nodded, and wiped her eyes. “Just no bat-gremlin talk,” she said. “Got it.” She forced a smile on her face. “So, what can we talk about?” 

“Cooper seems like he’s going to be sticking around,” Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“And for my sanity, we are not going to talk about that either,” McGee said. “Look, if Josh is still there, maybe we can all put our heads together and figure out what Vance is up to with this cold case contest.” 

“Are we sure he’s up to something?” Jimmy asked. 

Abby snickered as both Tony and McGee head-slapped her fiance. “They’re right,” Jimmy,” she said. “He’s definitely up to something.” 

“Then let’s see if we can figure out what,” Jimmy said. He stood, and they headed to the coffee shop looking like nothing more than two couples hanging out on a Saturday. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

At the coffee shop, Damon studied the letters on the tray in front of him as he waited for Ziva to make her next move in their Scrabble game. He still felt tension through his shoulders, but he wasn’t about to let her see that. Just a nice, relaxing Saturday afternoon date with his favorite lady. 

“What is bothering you?” she asked as she set down her tiles.

“Me? Nothing,” Damon said as he tallied the points for her word and marked them on the score sheet. 

She leaned forward, hands on the table. “You have been on the ledge since we walked in here, and it is getting worse.” 

“On the edge,” he said reflexively. “And no, I’m not.” 

“Damon, do not start lying to me now,” she said. “I have had too many people lie to me before. I do not want you to be among them.” 

He deflated a little at that. “Maybe I am, a little,” he said. “I guess… I just don’t want to say or do the wrong thing.” 

“Lying to me? That is the wrong thing,” she said. “I have had enough of that in my life. Damon, I am a little banged on, but I am still me. I do not need you to tiptoe around me.” 

“Banged up,” he said. “And nobody’s questioning your toughness, Ziva. Nobody ever would. We all know you can handle anything thrown at you.” 

“But?” she said. 

“But just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to, or that it’s the best thing for you while you’re sorting through everything,” he said. He reached across the table to lay a hand on hers, and she tensed for a second before relaxing. “Your reflexes are still set to keep you in a heightened state of awareness, even though you’re trying to relax.” 

“Yes,” she said after a minute. “Yes, that is true. But it is not in my nature to sit back,” she said. “Push, push, push. It is how I was trained. It is how I learned to handle everything that happened to me. Not to push, it feels like retreat.” And though she didn’t say it, Damon could almost hear her thinking the word failure.

“And you know that sometimes, there is advantage in a strategic retreat,” he said. “It can be a chance to retrench, so you are better prepared for the next battle.” 

“It can,” she said. “And after the others come and I spend some time with them, I will. But I need to see, for myself, what I can handle.” She paused. “Otherwise, I believe I would put it off, with each delay allowing it to grow larger in my mind.” 

Before he could say anything, her hand tensed again. “They are here,” she said. She looked at him, her dark eyes steady and dry. “I will not stay longer than I can handle, but I must know what that is. For me.” 

He forced a smile on his face. “Whatever you need,” he said.


	11. Chapter 11

Josh finished telling the story about how he and his friends had pranked their history professor by registering him for the campus Jail and Bail fundraiser so he would get walked out of class before the end, when he often gave pop quizzes.

“Was he mad?” Sarah asked, after she finished laughing. 

“Stunned,” Josh said. “Somebody had been ‘arrested’ in his class earlier in the week, so he figured it was another student until they got all the way down to the front of the lecture hall. But we did all chip in to bail him out.” 

“And why did you do this again?” she asked, as she stretched to relieve the ache in her back. 

“One of the guys had to be someplace else — I forget where — and the pop quizzes were the professor’s way of taking attendance. Since you never knew when he would give one, you didn’t dare skip. No pop quiz, no penalty for missing the class.” He grinned, and Sarah couldn’t help laughing again. 

“Pretty ingenious,” she said. “I almost wish I was still in school so I could use that one some time.” She tried to hold back a yawn, but failed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Josh said. 

“It’s a sign of weakness, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t think I’ve heard all the Gibbsisms by now? Tim’s been on his team since before I got my license.” 

“I just meant, I know you’re tired,” he said. 

“All the time,” she said, grumbling. “And I don’t want to go home-” She broke off, before she could tell Josh something she wasn’t sure Ziva wanted her sharing. 

“Everything OK?” he asked. 

“As OK as it ever gets?” Sarah said. “Things have been so crazy for the last year or so that I’m not sure I remember what normal is like.” 

“Oh, Damon and Ziva are here,” Josh said. 

Sarah glanced down. The table hid her belly, so if she just stayed sitting, maybe Ziva wouldn’t- Well, no, Ziva wasn’t going to forget Sarah was pregnant just because she couldn’t see the evidence, but still, it had to be better not to have to see it. 

She greeted their friends, but wasn’t surprised that they didn’t do more than say hello before finding seats on the other side of the space. 

“Is this finally a date for them?” Josh asked. 

“I have no idea,” she said. “Maybe?” 

“That would explain why they didn’t join us,” he said. 

Sarah picked her words carefully, for once. “She’s had a difficult week,” she said. “Whatever else is going on, they have always been good friends, and I think that’s what she needs right now.” 

Josh looked cutely puzzled, and she really needed to stop thinking like that. “Wait, didn’t he break Tony’s nose when they met?” he said. “I heard something…” 

Sarah smirked. “Oh, he did. Get Tim to tell you the story sometime. He’s the one who tells it best. Ziva likes Damon too much for her version to have the full impact, and Tony’s still too irritated about the nose thing.” 

“Talking about us behind our backs?” Tony smirked as he, Tim, Jimmy and Abby walked up. 

“Just telling Josh to get you guys to tell the story of the cases you had with Damon,” she said, and mostly hid her snicker when Tony reflexively rubbed his nose.

“The evil ex stopped by,” Josh volunteered. “I got video, but I don’t think you’ll need it.” 

“He turned nice over the summer?” Abby said. “No way.” 

“No, but seeing evidence that I was Tim and Tony’s surrogate seemed to make him lose interest in harassing me,” Sarah said. 

“But-” Jimmy only got a word out before Abby and Tim both elbowed him and Tony glared. 

“Later, Black Lung,” he said. 

“Black-?” Josh looked lost. 

“Another one of those long stories,” Tim said. “So, do you guys want to join us?” 

“Yes, but I won’t,” Sarah said. “I’m going home to take a nap, and maybe stick my feet in a bucket of ice.” 

“You’re sure,” Tim said. 

“Tim, I’m fine,” she said. “Just exhausted.” 

“Come on, McMom, she’s said she’s fine,” Tony said, herding her brother away from the table. 

  
  


**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ziva watched as McGee, Tony, Abby and Jimmy stopped to talk to Josh and Sarah. Abby looked over at them once, and Ziva could see she was chewing her lower lip, but she smiled when she saw Ziva watching. It was, perhaps, forced, but she wasn’t running over to hug Ziva and tell her how sorry she was, though Tony and McGee must have told her. If Abby could make the effort, so could she. She smiled back. 

“Do you want to leave?” Damon asked her. 

“No, I will stay,” Ziva said. “For now.” She scanned the room. “Those tables over there, they would be enough space for all of us, including Sarah and Josh. We should take them, before somebody else does.” 

“Do you want to go get the tables, or put Scrabble away?” Damon asked. 

Ziva started to say it did not matter, then stopped herself and thought. “I will put the game away,” she said. “Go, I will be over in a minute.”

By the time she reached the table, everybody was sitting. The open seat was between Damon and Tony, and she saw McGee was sitting next to Abby. 

“Hey, Ziva!” Abby said. “It’s really good to see you. I mean, not that we haven’t seen you because we saw you the other day and you didn’t go anywhere, you just weren’t at work yesterday, but-” She broke off. “It’s really good to see you.” She poked McGee and and Ziva realized that McGee must have budged her or something to get Abby to stop talking.

“It is good to see you too,” she said. “All of you.” She looked around the table at her friends. “No, not all. Where is Sarah?” 

“She went home,” Tony said. “But the good news is, Evil Josh seems to have given up.” 

“Seriously?” Damon said. 

Cooper nodded. “His father’s putting pressure on him to propose to the girl he’s dating now.” From the expressions on Tony and McGee’s faces, they were not aware of that until now. 

“The one from the library,” Ziva said. 

“I guess,” he replied. “He told his friend that if she asked, he’d only just gotten back into town because he can’t afford for her to break up with him.” 

“So he is still a cheating  _ mamzer _ ,” Ziva said. “Still, it is good he is gone.” 

“Ziva’s right,” Tony said. “As long as he’s not dating a sailor, we don’t have to worry about him again.” 

“Oh, I got the part about him cheating on her on video,” Josh said. “I’ll send you a copy.” 

“Hand me your phone, and I’ll send me a copy,” McGee said. “Better chain of evidence that way, in case we ever need it.” 

“Not you, McGoo,” Tony said. “Make sure Abby gets a copy. All of us, really. That way nobody can argue that you tainted it.” 

“So, we are done with worrying about him, yes?” Ziva asked. 

“Yes,” Tim said, his tone emphatic. “There is something else we should talk about, though.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Once the emails were sent, McGee figured it was time for a distraction. “While we’re all here and the rest of the Navy Yard isn’t, we should figure out what Vance is up to with this cold case contest.” 

“Jarvis is retiring in January,” Jimmy said. “Could Vance just be trying to figure out who could replace him?” 

McGee looked at Tony, who gave an imperceptible nod. “No, he has a plan for that,” McGee said. 

“It has something to do with the training sessions you were leading,” Ziva said, her voice certain.

“Let’s just say I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason for the contest,” McGee said, deflecting. “Josh, what did you find out?” 

The intern pulled out a notepad. “So, I saw a few patterns when I looked at the cold cases the director had pulled compared to all of them: More agents who served in San Diego at some point, and agents, generally, who had a lower close rate than the average.” 

“Bad agents?” Jimmy asked. 

“Or overworked,” Tony said. “We close almost all our cases because we have the most resources of any team at NCIS — and the best people. When you’re the agent afloat, it’s not that simple. You work solo, nobody wants to talk to you, and you, Ducky and Abby are miles away and focused mostly on the major cases.” 

McGee thought for a minute. “Did they all work in San Diego?” 

Josh shook his head. “No. Many did, but not all.”

“How does it work?” Damon asked. “NCIS assignments, I mean. The Marines, you have tours and postings, and with a few exceptions, they don’t last all that long. But you guys have all been in your positions for a while.” 

“That’s because nobody wants to work with Gibbs,” Tony said. 

“No, he has a point,” McGee said. “He’s got a fresh set of eyes. Maybe he’ll see something we’re missing.” 

“For agents, it’s different,” Abby said. “Specialists like me and Jimmy are just regular government jobs. Some of the bigger field offices have forensics techs, like Great Lakes and San Diego, but unless I asked to transfer to one when there was an opening, I’m based here.” 

“We, however, can be reassigned whenever the director wants,” Tony said. “There are a few exceptions. Agent Afloat tours are a year, and McQueasy here could turn one down.” 

“So, like the Corps, if you’re assigned, you go,” Damon said. 

“Not always,” Tony said, and McGee could tell he was thinking of the Jeanne assignment, and Rota.

“The biggest difference is when you aren’t reassigned,” McGee said, as a distraction. “There are a lot of specialized jobs, like the cold case unit, where if you get there and everybody’s happy with how you’re doing, you can pretty much stay as long as you want.” 

“Being able to survive Gibbs is considered a specialized job,” Tony said. “With one notable exception-”

“For a larger purpose,” Ziva interjected. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, he did it for a reason. I’m still not forgetting about it. Anyway, as I was saying, with one notable exception, once you’re on Team Gibbs, they don’t mess with you as long as you and Gibbs both still want you on the team.” 

“But you’re saying San Diego wouldn’t be like that,” Damon said. 

“Not for a typical agent,” Tony said. “Like Pearl, it’s a popular posting, so they try and rotate those slots around. It is one of the bigger offices, though, so it has a SAC and an ASAC, which smaller offices like New Orleans and Rota don’t have.” 

“They don’t?” Josh asked. “And what’s a SAC?” 

“Special agent in charge, and an ASAC is an assistant SAC,” Tony said. “Local offices have only one team, so the team leader is in charge of the office, but the agent is still just a high-ranking field agent. There are about a dozen field offices, like Norfolk, with several teams.” 

“Agent Whelan was the SAC in Norfolk when I was there,” McGee said, remembering. “I think she’s at Pendleton now.”

“And that’s the point I was trying to make,” Tony said. “If you’re a SAC or an ASAC, unless you want a demotion, you only have so many places you can go, so once you get one of those jobs, you might be there a while.” 

“Was Vance the SAC in San Diego?” Abby asked. 

“Pendleton,” Tony said. “Then when he was assistant director, he was based in southern California over all the Pacific operations, including San Diego, Pendleton and OSP in LA.” 

“But he was an agent at San Diego,” McGee said, remembering the file he’d finally looked at after Tony’s comments Friday. “In the late 1990s, he was based in San Diego for a few years. Gibbs was there then, too, but I don’t know if they overlapped before he went to Europe.” 

“Europe means Paris,” Tony said, making a face. “And you know what Paris means.” 

“Jenny,” Ziva said. “She was a junior agent when they worked together.” 

“Who’s Jenny?” Josh asked. 

“Former NCIS Director Jenny Shepard,” McGee said. “She was director when we worked your father’s case, but she died a few years ago.”

“Yeah, under my watch,” Tony said. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” McGee, Abby and Ziva all said at once, though it got muddled when Ziva said “was not.” 

Josh and Damon just looked at each other. “Not going to ask,” Damon said. “Unless it’s relevant.” 

McGee shook his head. “Let’s hope not,” he said. “So, getting back to our puzzle, if Vance noticed something while he was in San Diego, why didn’t he deal with it when he was the assistant director?” 

“Maybe he needed proof,” Abby said. “Only Gibbs has a gut.” 

“Perhaps he could not risk it,” Ziva said. “The director is an ambitious man. Maybe he was not willing to rock the ship with whatever he suspected.” 

“Boat,” Tony said. “You think he looked the other way?” 

“Would he do that?” Josh asked. 

“He does for us, sometimes,” McGee said. He thought for a second. “But no, that doesn’t seem like his style.” 

“Maybe Abby and Ziva are both right,” Jimmy said. “If he had proof, would he be running this cold case contest?” 

“Jimmy’s right,” McGee said. “This feels a lot like the mole hunt, without the lying and splitting up the team parts.” 

“He has a theory, but he’s using the agency to prove it,” Tony said. “At least this time, he’s letting us work together.” 

“But if Ziva’s right, that means whoever he’s after has enough juice that he couldn’t afford to do anything until he was director,” Damon said. “That has to narrow down the suspect pool.” 

“That and the age of the cases,” Josh said. “There are some from 25 years ago, so it has to be somebody who’s been around for a while.” 

“Probably somebody older than Vance,” Tony said. “Once he was in, he rose up the ranks pretty quickly because he was one of the first agents with cyber skills.” He frowned, and looked up at the ceiling. 

“What?” McGee asked, recognizing the look. “You know something.” 

“Something Jenny said to me once,” he said. “The day I turned down Rota-” 

“You did what?” Jimmy said. 

Tony waved it away. “Not important, Black Lung,” he said. “Anyway, she said she wished she’d made a similar decision, that to get where she was at her age, especially as a woman, she had been on the fast track from the beginning.” 

“How old was she?” Josh asked. 

McGee shrugged. “I don’t know, but she had to be about the same age as Vance is.” 

“She is.” 

They all turned to look at Jimmy. 

“The case last year, from Chicago, the one the director was running,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “The Marine who died was somebody Vance had grown up with, and he was born the same year as Director Shepard. I remember from when I was entering the information from the autopsy reports in the system.”

“You remember something like that?” Tony said. 

“Oh, like you wouldn’t?” McGee rolled his eyes. “Who remembered the name of the small town Gibbs was from?” 

“He has a point, Tony,” Ziva said. “You do remember details about people, especially when you are poking your toes into something.” 

“Nose,” Tony said. “And that’s besides the point. If Jenny was on the fast track to make director when she did, Vance had to be too.” 

“He’s not a woman,” Josh said. 

“No, but he’s black,” Abby said. “That’s just as hard — look at how few black military leaders there are, or even in the civilian DOD agencies.” 

“So Vance had to keep quiet with what he suspected if he wanted to stay on the fast track,” McGee said. “We’re not looking for just any agent here.” 

“It would have to be somebody who was well-established before he joined the agency,” Tony said. “Otherwise, he could have made an example of them and helped himself.” 

“That means somebody who joined when it was NIS,” McGee said. “And whoever they are, they aren’t a field agent anymore. Too old.” 

“Agent Decker, he had an insurance policy, yes,” Ziva said. 

“And Franks has it now,” Tony said. “What are you thinking, Ziva?” 

“Perhaps the reason the director has not done anything is because he believes there is a similar insurance policy out there for whomever he is after,” she said. “The only thing worse than not stopping something is trying and failing, yes?” 

“She’s right,” Tony said. “If whoever he’s after manages to skate, he’s missed a chance and blown any element of surprise he has working for him.”

“So he has to be careful,” Damon said. “Make sure there’s no way whoever he’s after can wriggle out.” 

“Couldn’t he just force the agent out?” Jimmy said. “If it’s somebody older than Vance, couldn’t the person be nudged into retirement.” 

“Not if Vance thinks the person would fight it trying to stay on for a bigger pension,” McGee said. “We’re civilian, so the ‘failure to get promoted to a higher rank’ approach doesn’t apply. And with civil service, there are protections in place.” 

“Not to mention, we don’t know what Vance is after the person for,” Tony said. “Cooper’s information suggests incompetence, but it has to be more than that if Vance is going through this much trouble.” 

“Tony is right,” Ziva said. “The director will take dramatic steps, but only when they are warranted. Something involving this many people and agency resources must be an important target indeed.” 

“So what can we do?” Josh asked. “Well, what can you all do, I guess, since my internship’s almost over.” 

“Solve the cases,” Abby said. 

“All of them?” McGee said. “Abbs, there are hundreds of cold cases, and most are not in this area.”    
“Well, OK, so we don’t solve the cases, but we figure out why they weren’t solved the first time around,” Abby said. “That’s faster than solving them, and if we can find a pattern there-”

“We can figure out what Vance is really after,” Tony said. “That is genius.” 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a hectic fall, and this week is the busiest week of the quadrennium in my line of work, so I wanted to get another chapter out before the election eats my week. Huge thanks as always to Kyrie and Kesterpan for their feedback on drafts and Kyrie’s editing help. Some of you might have figured out where we’re headed. Whether you have or haven’t, enjoy this calm, because the storm is definitely coming.

The next afternoon, Sean McGee tied his sneakers, then checked his pocket for his house key. 

“You’re going running?” Eileen asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“Walking only,” Sean said. “I’d rather different scenery at a slower pace than running on the treadmill again.” 

“By the time you get back, I might have some fresh scones waiting,” Eileen said. “Ducky gave me the recipe a few weeks ago, and that way I can use up part of that bushel of peaches from the farmers market yesterday.” 

“How long do they take to make?” Sean said, stifling a laugh when she flicked a dishtowel at him. 

As he headed down their quiet street, the faint hum of bugs and heavy August air slowed down his legs and his brain. He’d done all the lung exercises Brad had prescribed already, and the walk counted as his easy cardio. He paid attention to his body as much as the people out and about in the neighborhood, careful not to move fast enough to trigger the tightness in his chest that he knew would have Eileen calling Brad. 

“Suck it up, sailor,” he muttered. 

He was halfway back to the house when he spotted a familiar figure jogging up to him. 

“Tony?” he said. “Is everything all right?” But even as he asked, he could see his son-in-law’s face was relaxed, smiling. 

“McGoo’s helping Mom with the scones, so I figured I’d come find you,” Tony said. “We can’t stay too long and didn’t want to miss out on seeing both of you.” He fell into step with Sean. 

“You’ll probably get a batch of scones to take home with you,” Sean said. “We had a lot of peaches that Eileen was determined to use up.” 

“You could always give some to Gibbs to bring into the office. Food just evaporates there.” He paused. “How are you feeling?” 

“Following doctor’s orders,” Sean replied. “You?”

“Always,” Tony said. “Brad’s doing everything he can to keep me in the field until I’m ready to leave, even if it will be Cold Cases starting in January.”

“I thought you wanted the transfer,” Sean said, curious to hear his son-in-law’s response. 

“I do,” Tony replied. “I’d never tell Gibbs, but sometimes I miss having my own team. When I didn’t take a promotion after he came back, it was because I knew I’d rather play on the varsity than be captain of the JV team.” 

“But?” Sean asked. 

“Is it a McGee thing to always know when there’s something I’m not saying?” Tony asked. He rolled his shoulders. “Me staying on the team is also holding Tim back from getting senior field agent experience. I’ll still be in the Navy Yard. And since he can have Tim heading up this new cyber-whatever unit he has in mind, Vance pretty much promised me I can take over the MCRT when Gibbs retires. You know, right about the time hell freezes over.” 

Sean couldn’t help laughing. “So, did you two stop by for a reason?” 

He listened to Tony explain about the intern’s summer ending. “And you’re thinking we can do a cookout in the two backyards the way we did for Sarah’s graduation?” 

Tony nodded. 

“Sure, we’ll host,” Sean said. “So the team, including Ducky. Vance?” 

“Good question,” Tony said. “Damon might be there. Oh, and I’m sure Sarah will come once she’s done with work.”

“Sarah?” 

“He lives near her coffee shop, so they met there before the first time he came to a game night,” Tony said, smirking 

“Really.” Sean raised one eyebrow. 

“Oh, no.” He could almost see Tony backpedaling. “They’re not dating. Yet. But they apparently talked about it and plan to revisit in the spring.” 

“And he’s a good kid?” 

Tony nodded. “He is.” 

“I guess we’ll get to see for ourselves next weekend,” Sean said, then let the subject drop. For now. He could feign ignorance with Gibbs later and see what the team leader had to say about the kid. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ziva sat on the back steps, basking in the sun. While the Washington humidity was something she did not know if she ever would become accustomed to, she did relish the summer heat. The furry lump curled up next to her snuffled, and she resumed scratching Jethro behind the ears. “Yes, I know, you would prefer snow and cold,” she said. “I might as well if I was wearing a fur coat.” She allowed her brain to focus only on the feel of the fur at her fingertips and the warmth on her skin. This was home and peace. 

She cast her mind back to the previous afternoon. Once the team had determined how to attack the cold case questions, conversation had drifted into other areas. After about half an hour, Ziva and Damon had left. 

_ Once they turned the corner, Ziva looked for a bench. There, down the block. She walked there, intent, then stopped and sat. She allowed herself to relax, shoulders slumping. _

_ “Ziva?” Damon asked, crouching in front of her. “Are you-?” _

_ “I am fine,” she said. “Here, come sit.” She patted the bench next to her as she thought through her words. “It is not what anybody did or did not do,” she finally said. “Even Jimmy did not put his leg in his mouth.”  _

_ “Foot,” Damon said.  _

_ “Foot, leg, whatever,” Ziva said. “The point is, there was nothing wrong. I just needed a break.” She was not certain how to explain it. “When we were talking about the case, it was fine. We all were focused on that, and it was easy. But after… None of us are quite sure what we can say or how to say it, and it is tiring after a while. And Abby was too quiet.”  _

_ “Only for Abby could that be considered quiet,” Damon said. “She still said more words than the rest of us put together. Except maybe Tony.” _

_ “She is trying, and I appreciate it,” Ziva said. “So the least I can do is also try and give her space to be as Abby as she wants for a while without worrying about me.”  _

That was a question for Dr. Rojas, was it not? How to give space without pulling away from the only family she had left. Especially Sarah, her little sister in every way it mattered, and Abby, who had the biggest heart on the team. She would ask tomorrow at her appointment. That decided, she allowed her mind to center itself again on Jethro and the summer day. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Gibbs sawed carefully through the end of the wood. There, the last piece was cut, and he could tuck away the sheet with the sketches and measurements. He looked at his watch. Hell, Jack’s plane must have already arrived and- He stilled and listened to the slow steps upstairs. And he’d caught a cab. 

Gibbs jogged upstairs and caught a whiff of “Peaches?” he asked as he entered the kitchen. 

“Peach scones,” Sean said from the dining room table where he sat, a steaming mug of tea in front of him. 

“Oh, good, Leroy. I was just about to come find you,” Jack said. “Eileen made them, and Sean brought some over after he picked me up at the airport.”

Before Gibbs could say anything, Sean held up a hand. “Jack asked us before he left if we would pick him up,” he said. “He didn’t want you to have to worry about it if you had a case.” 

“No cases right now,” Gibbs said. “I could have gone.” 

“Oh, sit down and eat your scone, Leroy,” Jack said. “You got an extra hour with your basement without me yammering in your ear, and Sean and I got a chance to catch up.” 

“We were planning the menu for next weekend, mostly,” Sean said. 

“Next weekend?” 

“The boys asked if we’d host a cookout before your summer intern leaves,” Sean said. 

“I was just surprised you have an intern,” Jack said. “You didn’t mention him.” 

“Didn’t want anybody knowing he was helping the team catch Paloma,” Gibbs said. 

“Oh, so I’m anybody, now?” Jack raised his eyebrows. 

“Dad…” Gibbs wasn’t even sure what to say. 

“I know, I know. You were just worrying,” Jack said. “At least we’re done with all that.” 

Gibbs gave up and poured himself another cup of coffee before joining the men at the table. “Is this just the team, or everybody?” 

“Well, now, I was hoping you might know why the boys were smirking when they said Sarah would be coming, too, once she got off work,” Sean said. 

“They’ve met,” Gibbs said. “One of those game night-thingies.” He thought back. “He’s starting at Georgetown Law next week, and I’ve seen the same cups as the ones Sarah’s coffee shop uses on his desk in the morning,” he said. 

“And Sarah works the early shift there,” Sean said. “He’s a good kid?” 

“His father was a Marine,” Gibbs said. “Killed by a bomb at the Army-Navy Club a few years ago. Josh was with him, but out of range of the blast.”

“I remember that case,” Sean said. “Tim wouldn’t talk about it, but I could tell from his reaction when I mentioned it that he must have worked the case.” 

“Josh-” Gibbs stopped at the look on Sean and Jack’s faces. “Hell, I never made the connection.” 

“This Josh is better than the other one, I hope?” Sean said. 

“He is. Back then, kid was all ready to skip Princeton, join the Marines.” Gibbs thought back. “Tony talked him out of it. Seems he made an impression on Cooper. He mentioned that conversation in his application. Worked with the team all summer.” That reminded him of the thing the other two men should know. “Ziva’s on leave for a while.” 

“Was she hurt on a case?” Sean asked. 

Well, that was a hell of a question, wasn’t it. “Not physically,” Gibbs said. 

“Stands to reason with all those scars on her back, she must have them up here, too,” Jack said, tapping his head. “She’s talking to somebody?” 

Gibbs nodded. 

“Well, I’m glad to see she at least is willing to talk,” Jack said. 

“Dad.” 

“I’m just telling it like I see it,” Jack said. “When you see her, let her know that if she’s ever looking for somebody to listen, she can stop by. I’ve always got time for one of the kids.” 

Gibbs nodded again. 

“If there’s any way Eileen or I can help, we’re usually around, too,” Sean said. “Except for her new basketball team, we’re trying not to get involved in too many things until we see how things shake out after the baby’s born and we’re watching her while the boys are at work.” 

“Will do,” Gibbs said. After that, he just listened as Jack and Sean chatted. He still needed to find a way to keep Jack from figuring out what he was working on downstairs, or saying anything to the team once he did find out. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

As the sun set that evening, casting a golden light over the backyard, Vance took his cell phone from his pocket and stared at it. He flipped it open to see the text from Friday. He was running out of time to decide how to respond. They had been working on this for too long not to see it through. The question was how to do it without collateral damage. 

He only wished he knew the answer. 


	13. Chapter 13

Monday morning, McGee looked over at Tony as they were driving in. “You know, there’s one big cold case we haven’t talked about,” he said. 

After a second Tony said, “I’m listening, McArchivist.” 

“Abby and I never did get all those electronics from the Damocles working, including Cryer’s sat phone.” McGee waited for his partner’s reaction. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“Tim, we are not going there again,” Tony said. “Nothing any of us have found points that direction, and the Damocles is a can of worms I do not want us to open again. Not now. Not ever, really.” 

“And what if it’s the right can?” McGee asked, unable to stop now that he’d finally broached the subject that had been on his mind. “We know Ben-Gidon and Ziva both suspected Cryer was working for somebody else. We know Vance and Eli knew each other before Vance became director.”

“Ziva said they were friends,” Tony said. Only the whiteness around his knuckles gave away how little he liked this. 

McGee pressed on, wanting to finish the conversation before they reached the Navy Yard. “I’m not saying that’s the case. I just figure we should think about it because if there’s one thing that could make this week worse-”

“It’s that.” Tony cut him off. “I know. But if that’s the key to whatever Vance is doing, he wouldn’t have to go through this cold case thing. He could just do what he did last year — tell you and Abby to finish processing everything.” 

McGee felt a little weight lift from his shoulders. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right, McGoo,” Tony said. “That’s why I’m senior field agent.”

“Senior pain in my ass, maybe,” McGee retorted. 

“Are you suggesting…?” Tony smirked as he let the suggestion trail off. 

McGee head-smacked him. “Keep your mind on work,” he said. “Things are going to be weird enough without Ziva around.” 

“Does Dwayne need to know anything?” Tony asked. “About Ziva.” 

McGee thought for a minute. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Not beyond the basics. Now that they leave Kevin at home for game nights, if we even have one anytime soon, I don’t think there are any special pressure points there.” He thought about it a moment longer. “And Josh is gone after this week.” 

“What do you bet McSis has already told him some of it, or will,” Tony said. 

“I know better than to bet with you on understanding people,” McGee said. “Sarah can’t really talk to any of her other friends about it because they don’t know the team and can’t know about Somalia, and she probably needs somebody to talk to that isn’t too close. That leaves Josh or Gibbs, and I don’t need to have your people-reading skills to know which is more likely.” 

Tony snorted. “Now that’s a conversation I’d love to be a fly on the wall for,” he said. “Gibbs, not Cooper.” 

“Does Gibbs need to know?” McGee asked. 

“If he wants to know, he’ll ask,” Tony said. “The man’s never been shy about demanding answers when he wants them.” 

“Good point,” McGee said. “Do you want to fill Ducky in, or should I?” 

“Let’s see if the Boss still has us working on the petty officer who might be gaslighting women into suicide before either one of us heads down to the Duck Pond,” Tony replied as he pulled into a parking space. “With Dwayne back on the team starting today, we’re not going to be on cold cases very long.” 

But when they got upstairs, the only sign of Gibbs was the coffee cup on his desk. McGee stopped just in time to avoid plowing into Tony. “Call your stops,” he said, then realized Tony was looking at the photo of Dwayne’s family on Ziva’s desk. The young agent was nowhere in sight, though. 

“She’ll be back, right?” Tony said, his voice quiet. 

“She’ll be back,” McGee replied, then headed for his own desk, tugging Tony’s hand until he followed. “Depending on how long Ziva’s out, he might be moving over to my desk before she’s back.” He kept his voice low, so only Tony could hear.

“It still doesn’t feel right,” Tony said. 

“He’s part of the team, and it’s not fair to him to stick him at the desk behind mine. Besides, Josh is sitting there for another week,” McGee said. “Here he comes.” 

Tony headed for his own desk, dropping his backpack in its usual corner, as Dwayne walked into the bullpen carrying stacks of files. 

“Gibbs told me to move my stuff over,” he said, putting down the folders. He walked over to the space in front of the plasma. “How long is Ziva going to be out?” 

McGee looked over to Tony, who gave a “Why me?” look in response. 

“She took her plant home,” McGee said. 

“That’s because she knows better than to ask either of us to water it,” Tony said. 

“You really don’t know?” Dwayne said.

“I don’t think Ziva knows,” Tony said. “This was all pretty sudden.”

“Not really,” McGee said. 

“That’s how it hits,” Tony said. “Gradually, then suddenly. Although in ‘Prozac Nation’ the quote was about depression.” 

McGee snorted. “And they stole it from Hemingway’s ‘The Sun Also Rises,’ when it was about going bankrupt.” 

“You saw the movie?” Tony said. “That one’s pretty obscure because it was so bad.” 

“I read the book,” McGee said. “If I haven’t watched an old movie with you, it’s a good bet I haven’t watched the movie.” 

“I’m lost,” Dwayne said. 

“Ignore us,” McGee said. 

“Good advice, Elflord,” Gibbs said as he walked into the bullpen. 

“Yes, Boss.” 

“We catch a case?” Tony asked. 

Gibbs shook his head. “Stick with the cold ones.” He picked up his coffee cup and headed upstairs. 

“I’m still confused,” Dwayne said. 

McGee walked over and leaned a hip in the edge of Gibbs’ desk, close enough that only Dwayne and Tony could hear him. “Ziva went through hell in Somalia,” he said. “She never really dealt with it. Just enough to get through her psych evals so she could come back to NCIS.” 

“So this has been brewing for a while,” Dwayne said. 

“And now she’s getting help,” Tony said. “And so are we: You.” He walked over to join them. “So, we have one cold case we were waiting on Ducky for.” 

“How do you know Gibbs didn’t get the information from him already?” McGee asked. 

“Because Ducky emailed to say he’d be in late today,” Tony said. “And since he knew Gibbs wouldn’t read the email, he sent it to me, too.” 

“Is everything all right?” Dwayne asked. 

“He just said he’d be late because he had something to do this morning,” Tony said. “And he sent his report on our possible gaslighting petty officer.” He pointed across the bullpen. “Copies on the printer.” 

“Paper, Tony?” McGee said. “Really?” 

“Don’t worry, I sent you the email. The paper copies are for us non-technogeeks.” Tony walked over and pulled copies of the report off the printer. “Now let’s see if this helps.” 

“See if what helps?” Josh asked as he walked in. 

“We’re still working on that cold case from last week,” McGee said. “Now that we have Ducky’s psychological analysis-”

“We can tell if it really is a case,” Tony said. He spoke without looking up from the papers he was reading. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

As she drank her morning coffee, Eileen listened to the sounds drifting down from upstairs. Four months and two weeks of Sean doing all the exercises Brad had prescribed for his lungs. They seemed to be working. He at least hadn’t ended up back in Bethesda. Still, she listened every morning. 

Not for the first time, she wondered how Tim dealt with the thread of worry that seemed to lace through her days since Sean was diagnosed. He only rarely showed it, though she’d heard Tony call him McWorry and McMom enough to know that just because she didn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. 

When they had talked about what they would do in retirement, this wasn’t the plan. Moving to Virginia, planning to care for their granddaughter while her son and his husband were at work, hoping that Sean would be around and healthy until the baby was old enough to remember Grandpa as he was, not as a sick and dying old man, none of it was planned. 

They weren’t old, either of them. No more so than Jethro was, and he still chased down criminals for a living. 

Eileen sighed and sipped her coffee. Worrying would not change anything. Her phone chirped at her, and she looked to see a new email from a name she didn’t recognize. Renee… Oh! That was the basketball team captain. 

Eileen opened the email to see an invite to join a few of the women on the team that night for an informal 3-on-3 game. She smiled as she replied. A good game was just what she needed to distract her. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Ducky parked his Morgan in the lot next to the funeral home. It was more than half-full. But then, Mrs. Hampton was many years younger than his own mother had been, and she had lived in the area for many decades. 

Once inside, he entered the room where the funeral was to take place. He’d not been surprised that Jordan had chosen not to use a church for the funeral. She stood alone near the casket at the front of the room, speaking with a woman who looked to be a contemporary of her mother’s. And of himself, if he was being honest. Jordan had never minded their age difference, but this sort of event did rather drive home that he was closer to her mother’s age than to hers. 

As he approached, she smiled. “Donnie,” she said as he reached her. “Thank you for coming.” 

“I am so sorry about your mother,” he said, taking her hands in his. “How are you?” 

She looked around, and lowered her voice. “Sad, of course, but, well, you know.” 

“Sadly, I do indeed,” he said. “Though I wish neither of us had to learn the feeling of watching a loved one fade by inches. Even Afghanistan was not so painful to see.” 

She nodded, with only a shimmer of tears in her eyes betraying her emotion. “I’m glad you were able to come today,” she said. “I know you probably have to leave right after the service-”

“I have no pending cases, just some cold ones that can be delayed a bit,” Ducky hastened to say. “That, of course, could change, but if it does not, my day is somewhat flexible.” 

“Some tea, then?” she asked. “There’s a shop down the street. My mother would probably prefer that we toast her memory with a gin fizz, but since it’s a weekday and you have to work…”

“Another time,” Ducky said. “As for today, you know I always enjoy a nice cuppa.” 

He moved along then, sensing somebody behind him, and took a seat along the side. Director Vance and Anthony both knew he would be in late once they read their email, but it was most improbable that Jethro would read his. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

As Ziva entered Dr. Rojas’ office, she reminded herself that she must be honest during her session. It was like cleaning an infected wound in the field. Everything must be drained or the infection would only fester and worsen. She rubbed the spot on her hip that puckered, a wound that had become infected many times while she was in Somalia, and could not heal cleanly. She did not want those bumps on her heart, at least not more than she already had. So, she must be truthful. 

Her resolve already was faltering after she heard the doctor’s first question. 

“My weekend was … fine,” Ziva said, then realized she sounded like Tony. “No, it was not fine.” She searched for the words. “I met my friends on Saturday,” she said. “Mostly the team, and Damon. He had…” She hesitated. “I asked him to tell Tony and McGee about my experience so they could tell those who needed to know and I would not have to. Not Sarah,” she hastened to add. “I told her myself. I needed to, and she needed to hear it from me. But the others.” 

“They needed to know?” the doctor asked. 

“Abby, she wears her heart on her arm,” Ziva said. “No, sleeve. On her sleeve. She and Jimmy, they have been trying to have a baby. It has become something of a team joke, though it would take too long to explain why.” She swallowed. “Abby, she miscarried a few months ago.” 

“And your team is joking about her having a baby after a miscarriage?” Dr. Rojas frowned. 

“No! No, that is not what I meant,” Ziva said. “I am sorry. English expressions, they are difficult for me.” She explained their nicknames, the lab bat and the Autopsy Gremlin. Despite the pain, she could not help but smile at the bemused expression her therapist wore. “When they first got together, there were comments about shotguns and bat-gremlins,” Ziva said. “This was several months ago, before Sarah knew about the baby and before Tony and McGee were talking about starting a family. Before Abby, too, learned what it is like to lose a child, only hers was wanted.”

“Unlike yours.” 

Ziva nodded. “Tony and McGee, I knew they would tell Abby and Jimmy so I would not have to. And Abby, she has many emotions. She expresses them, and for many months after I joined the team, we had difficulties because we could not understand each other. I came from a world where emotions often put you in danger. Abby hugs as though if she holds on tight enough, it will keep us safe from everything.” She hesitated. “On Saturday, she was being careful around me. She did not hug me, although I could tell she wanted to. And I know I am not ready for Abby as she usually is, but I also do not want to force her to change because of me.” 

“Why do you assume you’re forcing her?” Dr. Rojas asked. 

Ziva replayed the question in her mind, but it made no more sense. “I do not understand,” she said. 

“You said you forced Abby to change,” the doctor said. “How?” 

“Because she was not being Abby around me,” Ziva said. 

“Did you ask her to behave differently?” 

“I… No, I did not speak to her. Tony and McGee did.” Ziva forced her hands to stay still in her lap. 

“And what did you ask them to do?” Dr. Rojas asked. “The exact words, or as close as you can get.” 

Ziva thought back to the previous week, remembering her last day in the office. “I asked McGee to talk to Damon,” she said. “I told him to tell Damon I had said it was all right, that he should tell them everything I had told him. That I trusted him and Tony to know who should know the details.” 

“Do you trust Abby?” Dr. Rojas asked. 

“Yes,” Ziva said, not even pausing to think. “She, they, are family. I trust them with my life. I have trusted them with my life, because they are the ones who saved me.” 

“So why are you having trouble trusting that they are trying to help now, by giving you what you need, even if it’s not exactly what you’re used to.” 

The silence hung in the air for a minute. 

“Because I do not want to be different,” Ziva said, the words rushing out. “I want to believe I can get past this, and it will become like Eli, something that we can mention and it no longer hurts. Something where it is, not a joke, but not something we tip-tap around.” 

“Tiptoe?” Dr. Rojas asked. 

“Tap, toe, whatever,” Ziva said. “The point is, Eli can be mentioned and somebody will curse him or say he would be dead if he set foot in NCIS and it is fine. I am fine. They are fine. Nobody feels like they have to apologize to me for saying it.” 

“Eli is your father?” 

“He is. Although we have not spoken in more than a year, and I do not believe we ever will again. He puts Israel and Mossad ahead of everything.” She swallowed as she recalled a memory. “I heard him say, many times, how he looked forward to the day his grandchildren could be doctors or lawyers, could grow fat and happy because they were not living in a war zone. That is why he does what he does, to secure Israel’s future.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and she could not figure out why. 

Dr. Rojas pushed a box of tissues across the table toward her. Ziva ignored them. 

“Last week, you mentioned a sister and a brother,” the doctor said. 

“Tali and Ari,” Ziva said. “They are both dead.” 

“Do you have any other brothers or sisters?” 

Ziva shook her head. “No. It was just the three of us.” She forced herself to remember. “My mother, she left Abba when Tali was small.” Ziva still remembered the day, watching her father leave the house with two suitcases filled with everything of his. “I did not understand at the time, but later I understood it was because of Mossad. Because he was an assassin, assigned to kill threats to Israel. Ima did not want us exposed to him because she was afraid we would become like him. She was right to be concerned. After she died, after Tali died, we did become like him.” Ziva forced herself to take a breath, even in and out. “I later learned that after she left him, his star began to rise in Mossad.” She fingered her necklace, the replacement Tony and McGee had given her at the holidays. “This is a Mogen David, the star of David,” she said. “It was also how he was known in Mossad during that period, as Mogen David. He was alone, and could put all of his energy into Mossad. And then Ima died.” 

“How old were you?” 

“Fourteen,” Ziva said. “Tali died two years later. Both of them died at the hands of Hamas, a mortar attack and a suicide bomb. That is when I knew I would follow Eli into Mossad, to protect the innocent. That is why Ari is now dead as well, because I was determined to protect the innocent.” She blinked back the stinging in her eyes. The tissue box remained untouched on the table. 

“So you are the only one of your father’s children still alive,” Dr. Rojas said. 

“Yes, for the past five years,” Ziva said. 

“Your father sent you on this mission,” the doctor said. 

“Yes.” Ziva shivered. “We talked about this last week, did we not?” 

“You have not spoken to him since you returned?”

“No. I emailed him to tell him I was leaving Mossad, joining NCIS and becoming an American citizen,” she said. “He did not reply, though I know he spoke with Director Vance about it.” 

“Because you left the country he spent his life defending?” Dr. Rojas asked. 

“Because my father told me when he commanded my aliyah that he demanded my loyalty, to him and only to him.” Ziva looked down to see wet spots on her shirt. “But he and Mossad did not rescue me. My team did, and they are the ones who taught me that respect and loyalty should be earned, not expected. And so Eli no longer has mine, because he has done nothing to deserve it.” She felt tears running down her cheeks, but let them. For once, she could not hide her feelings. She would not try. 

“So, although he says he wants a country where his grandchildren can grow up safely, he also made those grandchildren impossible through his actions,” Dr. Rojas said. 

Ziva stared at the doctor. 

“You were the only child he had left, and he sent you on that mission, and left you,” the doctor said. 

“I chose to-” Ziva cut herself off. “Gibbs said, last year, that I did not have a choice. That Eli did not give me a choice. That because of how he raised me and trained me, I said yes when another might not.” She nodded, slowly. “Gibbs was right. You are right.” Ziva reached for a tissue and dried her tears. “As a child, he was always too busy to see me dance, and I promised myself, one day I would have a child and I would never be too busy to see her dance. I would marry a man who would never be too busy to see her dance. That was another way he was shaping my life, by me promising to not make his mistakes.” 

“You made a decision last year, even though it was something you knew he would not approve of,” Dr. Rojas said. 

“Yes,” Ziva said. “Yes, I did, and it was as though a weight had been lifted from my head.” She thought for a second, blotting away a few more tears. “That has been part of this,” she said at last. “I believed that it was how I would prove I was different, that I was not my father. And then that was taken away.” 

When her session ended, Ziva was still thinking about what she had realized through her drive home and for several minutes after. So many, in fact, that she had a large grain salad prepared for dinner and chilling in the refrigerator and the dishes washed before she realized what she was doing. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Vance looked at the clock on his office wall. He couldn’t delay any longer, not without raising more questions. He dialed the number he’d learned by heart. 

“Eli, shalom,” Vance said. “How are you.” 

_ “Leon. I wondered when I would hear from you.”  _

“When I finally had a chance to call, I knew it would be after sundown Friday,” Vance said. 

As they moved into discussing business, Vance wondered if this would be the time Eli finally asked about Ziva. He wondered how he would respond. 

_ “So, we are agreed?” _

“Yes, Eli,” Vance replied. “I’ll make the arrangements. It might take some time.”

_ “In some things, caution is a vice,” _ the Mossad director said.  _ “Here, I believe it is a virtue.” _

“If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” 

_ “Shalom, my friend.”  _

“Shalom, Eli.” 

As Vance set the phone down, he thought back over the conversation. Not a single question about Ziva. That had to change sometime, didn’t it? He looked at the photo of his family on his desk, trying to imagine being able to separate himself that much from them to not ask. He couldn’t. 

Eli had always felt strongly about his children. But other than the conversation after Ben-Gidon’s visit almost a year ago, Eli had not asked about his one remaining child. And until he did, Vance wasn’t about to volunteer anything. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, this chapter has been ready for a few days, but I saved it for today because it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’s been a big Breathe fan from the start. Happy Birthday, Mom! Second, I spent some time a couple of weeks ago figuring out every scene for the rest of this story and I’ve been chipping away at them. I still plan to finish writing this by the end of the year, but the posting will probably carry into January because I haven’t been writing in order. In fact, the final scene in the story was finished last week, so really not in order.
> 
> Also, thanks to ncisrox for flagging that I originally posted this at the end of Life Is Made. Oops. It's been a long week.

“Boss, you see this email from Ducky?” DiNozzo said, then head-slapped himself as McGee laughed. 

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and waited. 

“He looked into the potentially gaslighting petty officer over the weekend, pulled social media profiles of people the sailor knows, looked at what was out there for the potential victims,” DiNozzo said. 

“And?” 

“Nothing, Boss,” McGee said. “He suggested the petty officer probably should get a psych eval, but from what he could find on the dependents who died, they all had some suicidal ideation before they met him.”

“McPsych is right, Boss,” DiNozzo said. “He’s attracted to the crazy ones, but he’s not modeling himself after Charles Boyer’s character. He’s just got weird taste in dates.” 

“Tony, _I_ have weird taste in dates,” McGee said, smirking. “He has serious mental health issues.” 

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” DiNozzo said, head-smacking his husband. “Not nice, Probie.”

Gibbs knew that look on McGee’s face and he was not about to have some HR weenie writing them up for sexual harassment. “Don’t answer that, McGee,” he said. “Just- Don’t.” He heard muttering from Wilson and Cooper, and stared at each of the four in turn. “Cold case is no case, so what else ya got?” 

“I’ve got some suspicious DNA,” Abby said as she walked into the bullpen. “I need a team to reopen the cold case, though.” 

“Ya got one, Abbs,” Gibbs said. “Talk.” But when she motioned for them to follow her, he did, the three younger agents and the intern trailing behind like bickering ducklings. 

When they reached the lab, he headed for the plasma, only to watch as Abby led the way into her inner office. He looked at Tony, who shrugged, and they all followed her. When she closed and locked the sliding glass door, his gut started churning. 

“You found something,” Tony said. 

“She said that upstairs,” Wilson replied. 

“No, Tony means Abby found something about the real reason for the cold case contest,” McGee said. 

Gibbs moved so he could see all four of the other agents and lifted an eyebrow. 

“Hey, don’t glare at them, Gibbs,” Abby said. 

“Not just them,” Gibbs retorted. “Does somebody want to fill me in, or is DiNozzo here going to get a concussion from the mother of all head-slaps.” 

“Not nice, Gibbs,” Abby said. 

He listened as DiNozzo, McGee and Abby filled him in. At least Wilson looked as confused as he did. 

“So what does the DNA have to do with your theory?” Gibbs asked when they were done. 

“It matches another case in the system,” Abby said. 

“Another cold case?” McGee said. 

“No, one we solved,” Abby said. 

“So why didn’t this one get closed then, too?” Wilson asked. 

Abby crossed her arms. “Because the case agent never ran the DNA through the system,” she said. 

At the babble of voices, Gibbs whistled. “Explain.” 

“Why he didn’t do it?” she said. “I have no idea.”

“So what do you know?” McGee asked, sounding as frustrated as Gibbs felt. 

“CODIS was created in 1990 by the FBI as a pilot project,” Abby said. “It wasn’t until 1994 that Congress passed a law allowing the creation of a national database, and it wasn’t completely in place until 1998.”

“The military databases weren’t added to the list until 2003,” DiNozzo said. “Before that, we could only use them to identify bodies.” 

“Right, so there were a bunch of years where DNA could be used, but things were fuzzy about whether you had to.” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Dwayne asked. 

“DNA takes time,” Gibbs said. “In the beginning, not everybody trusted it.” 

“Precisely,” Abby said. “So this rape and murder case from 1998 had plenty of DNA evidence. The perp wasn’t shy about leaving his DNA behind on the petty officer he killed at Camp Pendleton. But the case agent didn’t request DNA testing. He investigated for a few months, between other cases, before classifying it as a cold case.” 

“And if he had run the DNA?” McGee asked. 

“Two weeks after he killed the petty officer, the perp left his DNA behind at a series of rapes in neighboring Orange County,” Abby said. “The cops there uploaded the DNA and got a hit off a case in a small town in Louisiana from the previous year.” 

“A small town?” Tony asked. “Really, a small town was using DNA when the Navy wasn’t?” 

“Louisiana was the first state in the country to mandate DNA collection from arrestees, in 1997,” Abby said. “The town was so small and the parish was so big, the state police did the investigating. The sexual assault charge didn’t stick because the witness wouldn’t testify, but the guy’s DNA was already in the system.” 

“So if the case agent had run the DNA, he would have known who killed the petty officer,” Wilson said. 

“But he didn’t, so the case went cold until Abby looked at it and ran the DNA from evidence in the file,” DiNozzo said. He slammed his hand against the steel table. “This case was more than 10 years ago. Nobody thought to run the DNA before now?” He turned to look at Wilson. “Cold Cases never looked at it?” 

“For a case like that with evidence that might have DNA, Jarvis usually focuses on the older ones, from before the time we could test for DNA,” Wilson said. “Cases with DNA are flagged in the system so if the person is linked to another crime, it pings.” 

“Even a serial rapist wouldn’t be in prison after a decade,” McGee said. “And they don’t usually stop just because they might end up back in prison.” 

Abby moved over to her desk and pulled up the DNA results. “Shanked in prison five years ago,” she said. 

“So there’s nobody to arrest,” Cooper said. 

“No, but there’s a family of a dead petty officer who thinks her killer is still out there,” Gibbs said. “Good work, Abbs. Close the case, write it up. DiNozzo, call the family. McGee-” 

“Work with Josh to see how the agent in this case fits into the information we’ve pulled so we can narrow down a target,” McGee said. 

Gibbs nodded. “Wilson, pull all the cold cases this agent worked and see if there are any other boneheaded mistakes in there.”

He tossed his coffee cup in the trash. “Today, people.” He walked out. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Sarah whistled as she restocked the bags of coffee and boxes of tea near the register during the mid-morning lull. 

“You’re in a good mood today,” Michaela said. 

“It’s been a good week,” Sarah said. For the first time in a while, she felt like that was more than a front to put up to keep her coworkers from asking too many questions about protective details and evil exes. 

When she clocked out a few hours later, she still felt energized — well, except for her feet — so she settled in at one of the tables and pulled a notebook from her bag. It felt like weeks since she’d even looked at the notes for her novel, and as she started reading, she realized how flat it was. Not enough tension, the stakes weren’t high enough, and her characters — well, they were better than Tim’s, but still not great. 

Flipping to a new page, she started over with a new character, hearing the woman’s voice in her head as she scribbled. Before she knew it, even with multiple bathroom breaks, she’d filled four pages in her notebook, and jotting down ideas for what came next filled another three. 

She yawned, and checked the time, then stuffed her notebook in her bag. If she didn’t head out right now, the Metro was going to be full of rush hour traffic and she’d be standing all the way to Bethesda. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Vance’s secretary didn’t even bother to protest as Gibbs headed toward the director’s office. 

“I have a door for a reason,” Vance said when he walked in. 

Gibbs shut the door behind him. “Cold cases.” He walked over to stand in front of the director. 

“What about them?” Vance said. 

“My team has a theory,” Gibbs said. “They’re not buying your cold case contest anymore than I did, and they’ve been working together.” 

“Those weren’t the rules,” Vance said. 

“Not on the cold cases,” Gibbs said. “They’re trying to figure out why you’ve got them chasing cold cases.” 

“And you want to know if their theory’s right.” 

Not for the first time, Gibbs thought a card game against Vance would be dangerous. Man had a solid poker face. “I can’t back your play if I don’t know what it is,” he said. “Hell, I’m still not sure if I should be helping them chase down their theory or shutting them down so it doesn’t jeopardize whatever you’re planning.” 

“When I was a green agent, some things happened,” Vance said. “Blown ops, you know how it goes.” 

Gibbs stayed silent, waiting for more. 

“Somebody I worked with at the time, from another agency, he thought that people higher up the food chain than I was were behind it.” 

“Espionage?” 

Vance shook his head. “Not that I saw evidence of. Then.” 

“And now?” 

“Over the last year, I’ve been doing some digging,” Vance said. “Many of the people who could have been involved, I’ve determined that they weren’t, or that if they contributed to problems with any op, it wasn’t malicious.” 

“Many. Not all.” 

“The ones that are left, they have clout,” Vance said. “They came before us, built this agency into what it was.” 

“You’re not worried about a rogue agent,” Gibbs said. 

“I wish I was,” Vance replied. “All my suspects influenced the careers of many agents, and in most cases, trained many agents.” 

Gibbs felt like one of those cartoons with the lightbulb going off. “That’s why the broad sweep,” he said. “It’s not one case or one agent, it’s the pattern. You need these cases investigated again and solved because that’s the only way you’ll get the evidence.” 

“It has to be clear and convincing,” Vance said. “To use a name that’s not one of my suspects, it would need to be enough to bring down Tom Morrow.” 

“Mo-”

“No.” Vance cut him off. “Not Morrow, not Nedrow, not any director in between,” he said. “This goes high, but not quite that high.” 

“Deputy. Assistant. SAC.” Gibbs spoke the titles. “Somebody who rose high enough to supervise many agents.” 

“Your team’s the best,” Vance said. “No question. If you were in charge, I’d have ulcers and half the staff would transfer to another agency, but I’d know the people who were left were as good as it gets. Let them investigate. Don’t tell them what you know, but if you see them getting close to anybody that fits the profile, bring me in.” 

“Can I tell-”

“No.” Vance cut him off again. “That’s not me being a hardass, Gibbs, it’s for their protection, and yours. Your team walks the line, and you’re experts at knowing where it is and knowing exactly what you can do without raising eyebrows.” 

“But?” 

“If somebody were to start investigating, they could stir up a lot of mud that might hurt the careers of all your people. Your team’s the future of the agency. I’m not letting the past damage that.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

With dinner prepared hours before Damon would be home, Ziva looked around for something to do before Sarah arrived. She was not quite ready to spend a lot of time with Sarah, but also did not want to hide. The German shepherd slurping his way through his water bowl gave her the answer. She changed into a pair of her running crops and a T-shirt so her scars would not attract attention and gathered his leash. 

Jethro knew what that meant and was sitting in the mudroom with barely disguised impatience, his hindquarters wiggling. “Yes, McGee has trained you well,” she said, clipping on the leash. He popped up to standing and barked. “Come, let us go to the park.” She took a ball from the basket of his toys that lived there and they headed out. 

As they walked over, children in the neighborhood stopped to pat him. A few even knew his name, and answered their questions, and turned down a few offers for him to come play. “Another day,” she said. 

She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned down a street with no children outside. Still, things had been fine. She had been fine. 

When Ziva and Jethro reached the park, she could see immediately that there were younger children playing, some just at the point of walking on their own, but also parents, usually mothers. A few also had babies in strollers, and Ziva knew this had been the right choice. Jethro loved children and they loved him back, and here she could talk to them and their parents until that became comfortable. 

She had not made it more than 10 feet into the park before a small girl with blonde pigtails toddled up. “Doggy!” 

Her mother sat on a nearby bench, a baby strapped to her chest. In Israel, that sometimes meant a suicide bomber. Here, it just meant she could push her older daughter in a stroller while the baby snuggled. “Chloe!” she called. 

Ziva smiled at the mother and knelt down, and gathered up the slack in Jethro’s leash so he could not move more than a few inches. “She can come see him,” she said to the mother. “Jethro likes children.” Chloe ran over, almost crashing into Jethro. “Doggy!” 

“Yes, this is Jethro,” she said. “Your name is Chloe?” 

“Ko-ee!” she said and reached out to pat Jethro. Her hands headed for his face, and Ziva intercepted them. “Pat him here,” she said, directing the girl to his side. She patted him lightly, and Jethro barked. “See,” Ziva said. “He likes getting pats.” 

“Mama, doggy!” Chloe said. 

“I see,” the woman said. “He’s a big doggy, isn’t he.”

“He is big, but gentle,” Ziva said. “Yes, your daddies trained you well,” she said to Jethro, scratching behind his ears.” 

“We’ve seen him before,” the mother said. “You’re not usually with him, though.” 

“Oh, that is the dog walker,” Ziva said. She stood and led Jethro, Chloe following, over to the bench so she could sit there. “We are usually at work,” she said. “But I’m off for a bit, so Jethro was able to show me his favorite park.” 

“Boyfriend?” the woman asked. “I’m sorry, I’m being nosy,” she said immediately. “You mentioned Jethro’s daddy.” 

Ziva laughed. “Oh, no, they are friends of mine, honorary brothers. We traded apartments for a few months, and my landlord does not allow pets, so Jethro is living with his aunts for a while.” He woofed at his name. “Yes, you like when all your daddy’s sisters come to play with you,” she said. It was not the truth, exactly, but it was easy to explain, where the truth was not. 

They spoke for a few more minutes as Chloe hugged Jethro, but Ziva could sense the dog getting restless, and the baby was starting to make noises. “Jethro, say goodbye to Chloe,” she said. It took a minute, but Ziva and the dog were able to continue their walk. 

That had not been bad. It had not felt completely natural, but it was easier than she had expected. Ziva promised herself that she would bring Jethro on a walk every day, until she was comfortable with children and their mothers, and the idea that she would always be the aunt, not the mother.

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Gibbs pulled in the driveway and saw Jack next door, on the porch with Sean and Eileen. He raised a hand in a wave, then went inside to stow his gun. He changed into jeans and shed his sport jacket before heading outside to join them. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked Eileen, who was looking at her watch. 

“Basketball,” she said. “I need to leave in about fifteen minutes.” 

“Leroy, come sit a spell,” Jack said. “We were just talking about food for this weekend.” 

Before he could take a seat, Eileen’s phone rang. She listened for a minute. 

“That’s terrible,” she said. “Yes, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just sit tight. Where exactly are you?” She nodded, and as soon as she disconnected, started tapping on her phone. 

“Everything OK?” Gibbs asked. 

“Jocelyn, the woman who recruited me for their basketball team, had to drop her daughter at a swim meet and her car broke down on her way between there and practice,” she said. “She called to see if I could come pick her up. Everybody else still has kids at home they’re shuttling around, or comes straight from work.” 

“Give me a minute to grab my tool box and I’ll follow you,” Gibbs said. “Or is her husband coming to take care of the car?”

Eileen shook her head. “He died several years ago,” she said. “He was Navy, but it wasn’t line of duty, from what I gathered.” 

“Go, Leroy,” Jack said. “Dinner is yesterday’s leftover chicken, so you’re not holding me up.” 

Gibbs was already crossing the lawn to his garage. His Challenger had a basic tool kit in the trunk, but he grabbed the more complete one he kept in the garage, stowed it, then backed out and followed Eileen. 

She was good about signaling her turns — no surprise after seeing McGee drive — and he was easily able to follow her to the side road where a woman about her age waited. He got out and walked over.

“Special Agent… Gibbs? Right?” the woman said. 

He nodded.

“Oh, you’ve met?” Eileen said. “Gibbs lives next door, offered to bring his tools and see if he could fix your car.”

“I’m sorry, you won’t remember me,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Jocelyn Wayne. We met a few years ago. There was some question about my husband’s ashes-”

He nodded. “I remember,” he said. He wasn’t going to mention that the human chop shop was the reason he remembered the case. “I’m sorry we had to bother you then. I hope the ashes were scattered at sea the way your husband wanted.” 

“They were, thank you,” she said. “And thank you for offering to help. It started making a clunking noise yesterday, but my mechanic couldn’t fit me in until tomorrow afternoon. I was going to see if he could just tow it directly there.” 

Gibbs nodded. “Not a problem,” he said. They exchanged information, and Eileen and Mrs. Wayne — no, Jocelyn — headed to the Y. Gibbs opened the hood and looked around before spotting the problem. Fixing it took about 40 minutes, and he realized basketball practice would be ending in about the time it would take to drive over to the Y, so he stowed his tools, locked the Challenger, and drove over. He could always get Eileen to drop him back at his car. 

He parked by Eileen’s car, got out, and settled back against the side of the car. Less than five minutes later, he saw the women leave the Y. They noticed him halfway across the parking lot, and he could see Mrs. Wayne, Jocelyn, smile. 

“You fixed it?” she said as they approached. 

“It should hold until you can get to the mechanic tomorrow,” he said. “I’d keep the appointment, though, so he can make sure it’s fixed for good.” 

“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.” She took the keys from him. “Since you need a ride back to your car, let me buy you a cup of coffee first?” 

“He always says yes to coffee,” Eileen said, smirking. 

He resisted the urge to head-slap her. “No need. Happy to help.”

“That’s because you were a Marine,” Jocelyn said. “But I insist. Chrissy has a ride home from swim practice, so I have time, and it’s the least I can do.” 

He gave in, but insisted they pick up his car so he could follow her to the mechanic and she could leave the car there for its appointment the next day. “I’ll drop you home after coffee,” he said. “It’s no trouble.”

“You’re sure?” she was still asking as they walked into the coffee shop. 

He waved away her question. “Dinner was leftovers, so my dad’s probably already eaten, assuming he and Sean are done planning for the weekend.” At her confusion, he clarified. “Eileen’s husband. They’re hosting a cookout this weekend and Dad was over there when I got home.” 

“Eileen mentioned her son is on your team,” she said. Explaining the connections carried them through ordering, and he followed as she chose a table near the window. 

By the time he’d asked about her daughter — fifteen already? — he’d managed to ignore the reminder that he’d lied to her the first time they met. Besides, even if she was friends with Eileen, how often would he run into her. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

By Wednesday, the team was neck-deep in a murder case, but Josh was still working mostly on cold case analysis. He’d managed to eliminate some possibilities, but the director had looked at so many cases that he hadn’t narrowed it down much. Especially after Gibbs’ comments the other day. 

_“Vance have anything to share, Boss?” Tony had asked._

_“Keep digging,” Gibbs said. “Follow the trail.”_

_“So we are on the right track,” Tony said. “This is another wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing isn’t it?”_

_“Look for the common threads,” Gibbs said._

After that, Josh and McGee had mapped out more things for him to dig into, and Josh was determined to finish as much as he could before Friday. He was so deep into his analysis that when it registered that Jimmy was talking to him, he looked up to see the ME’s assistant snickering. 

“How long were you trying to get my attention?” he asked. 

“Not long,” Jimmy said. “I’m headed out to get coffee. Want to come?” 

“Sure, just let me save this,” he said. They headed out to the coffee shop in the Navy Yard the team frequented. As they walked, Josh asked the question that he’d wondered for a few weeks now. “I heard you’re graduating medical school soon.” 

“In December,” Jimmy said. “I’m lucky that I was able to get my work with Dr. Mallard to count so I didn’t have to leave and hope I could come back”

“So you’re staying, even though you’ll have your degree?” Josh asked. 

“Oh, yes,” Jimmy said. “I can’t imagine leaving now and not being part of the team, even though I could after I graduate. I still learn a lot from Dr. Mallard every day, even after seven years.” They paused to order coffee, and since both ordered drip, were soon headed back to headquarters.

“How did you decide you wanted to be a medical examiner?” Josh asked. “I mean, not to sound rude, but it’s not exactly a typical job.” 

“Working here,” Jimmy said. “I took the job because it was something in the medical field that didn’t require a medical degree, so I could do it while I was studying. And somewhere along the way, maybe when Gibbs was gone that one time, I realized that even though we don’t work on the living, we do help them because we help the team find answers for those left behind.” 

“So it wasn’t what you’d planned,” Josh said. 

Jimmy didn’t say anything at first. “Why all the questions?” he asked, after a minute. 

Josh shrugged. “This was just supposed to be a summer job that would look good when I applied to ONI, and maybe a little chance to give back to NCIS after Tony helped me get my head on straight after my dad died,” he said. “But… I like it. I mean, I’m not out there in the field, and I think all of you are crazy for working for Gibbs even when he’s caffeinated enough to not be crank-” He stopped. “He’s right here, isn’t he?” 

Jimmy laughed so hard he almost spilled his coffee. “No, he’s not.”

“See, I have been here too long,” Josh said, even as he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Are you having second thoughts because you don’t want to go to law school anymore, or because you like what you’ve seen at NCIS?” Jimmy asked. 

Josh had to think about that one. “Classes haven’t even started yet, so I don’t know if I’m going to like law school or not,” he said. “I guess just that this has been more interesting than I expected.” 

“NCIS agents aren’t required to have a graduate degree, or any degree, but most have a master’s or a law degree,” Jimmy said. “The MCRT is the exception — I think only McGee has his master’s degree. So even if you’re thinking about NCIS instead of ONI, you’d want to finish law school.” 

“You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?” Josh said. 

“Why would I?” Jimmy replied. “We need good people, and if you did get the job, you’d already have passed the ‘worked for Gibbs and lived to tell about it’ test, which most people fail.” 

“Thanks,” Josh said. “And, Jimmy, can you not tell anybody we talked about this, even Abby?” 

“Sure,” Jimmy said. “And if you ever want to talk to any of us after this week, you know where to find us.” 

“Yeah, at my neighborhood coffee shop giving Sarah a hard time,” he said, smirking. 

Jimmy held up his hands. “I am not one of the big brothers, even if I am older than Sarah,” he said. “I leave driving her nuts to them.” 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a passing mention in the first scene to some events in Heart of the Matter, which is the sixth story in Breathe. No need to read it if you haven’t, but mentioning in case you had missed those little stories between epics or had read it so long ago you forgot about it and want to go back. Also, here and in other places in the story, I’m drawing on thoughts expressed by the characters in episodes that don’t happen in this universe where they make sense. Those lines, if and when they appear, are property of DPB and the other entities that own NCIS. Finally, if it isn’t clear by now, this won’t be done by tomorrow (year’s end), but I’m still plugging away. Scenes just kept ending up longer than I had previously estimated. No worries, it will get finished. 

On Saturday, Ziva arrived early at the McGees carrying two cinnamon babka. The traditional dessert was one she rarely had time to make, but since she had nothing but time these days, she decided Aunt Nettie’s recipe would be her contribution to the cookout. She came alone, as Damon had offered to wait until Sarah got off work and give her a ride over. 

She could hear voices as she approached the house, and headed for the backyard, where she found Jack setting out food as Gibbs and Eileen were setting up the volleyball net. She waved to them, and joined Jack along the back of the house, where two long tables were set up. “Where would you like this?” she asked. “It is a dessert.” 

“Down the end by the brownies I made,” Jack said. “You know, some people say you should eat dessert first.” 

“I do not know about eating, but I will be taking a piece of babka first,” Ziva said. “If mine turned out even half as well as Aunt Nettie’s, it will be gone if I wait.” 

“Oh, if it’s a family recipe, I imagine it will be delicious,” Jack said. He turned to look at her. “How are you, Ziva?”

She thought for a minute. Jack’s eyes were the same as Gibbs, and it was impossible to lie to them. “I am … better,” she said after a minute. “Not where I would like to be, but better.” 

“Sleeping well?” he asked. “I know after that kid tried to rob my store last year, I didn’t sleep well afterward.” 

“Not well,” she said. “But it is better. Some nights, I do not feel tired, and I find myself in the kitchen when the others are asleep, making tea. Other nights, I am tired, but cannot fall asleep. But when I do sleep, I have fewer nightmares, fewer times that I am forced to relive what happened.” She brushed away the dampness in her eyes. “Situations that were … difficult for me before are not easy, but they are not so difficult.” 

“You know, when you first told me the story on New Year’s Eve, about your father and the boys going to Africa to rescue you, I saw those scars on your heart.” 

She nodded. “Yes, I remember you saying that.” 

“Do you also remember me saying that I wondered if Kelly had lived, if she would be as brave as you?” 

Ziva nodded, recalling the moment in her apartment, the one Tony and McGee now lived in. “I do not feel brave,” she said. 

“There are different ways to be brave,” Jack said. “Now I don’t know any details, and from the way my boy talks, he doesn’t know them all either, but to my mind, you tackling this and working to find your way through, that’s brave.” 

Ziva stepped closer and hugged Jack, and felt his strong arms hug her back. She did not feel wary or seamed in, no, hemmed in, and that was another small victory. She stepped back. “Thank you, Jack,” she said. “Now, how can I help?” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Josh pulled onto the side street that was the final step in the directions McGee had given him and didn’t even need to look at the house numbers. All the team cars, and a few more, were filling the street. 

He found a spot a little way down the street from the driveway where Tony’s Mustang was parked and walked down. 

“There he is!” Tony waved with the hand that wasn’t securing the bag of ice balanced on his shoulder. “Everybody’s out back.” But he headed for the gate of the house next to the one where he was parked. 

Josh looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. “Tony, isn’t that the wrong house?” he asked. 

Tony’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah, we should have mentioned. Gibbs lives here, next door to Mom and Dad. So the party’s using both backyards.” 

“Of course.” Josh didn’t know why he was surprised anymore. “I thought McGee’s parents were hosting,” he said as he caught up to Tony. 

“They are,” he replied. “I call them Mom and Dad, too. You can call them Sean and Eileen. And Gibbs’ dad is Jack.” 

Josh followed him into the backyard. 

“The guest of honor has arrived,” Tony called out. 

It was mostly the team and the other Gibblets, as Abby called them, but he found himself being introduced to an old man who must be Gibbs’ father, and Sarah’s parents. Or McGee’s parents. Well, both, really. This was weird. And after a summer working with the team, his bar for weirdness was a lot higher than it had been. 

“So, you ready to go back to classes?” McGee asked him as they were both pulling sodas from a tub of ice.

“More books, fewer headslaps,” Josh said, grinning. “I think that’s a fair tradeoff.”

“Well, good luck,” he said. “You might actually become an exception to Gibbs’ normal hatred for lawyers.” 

“I’ll settle for getting through school and passing the bar exam,” Josh said. “But at least I have a lot more all-nighter survival tips after a summer with the team.” 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

“Thanks for waiting to give me a ride, Damon,” Sarah said to the former Marine.

“No problem,” he replied. “Ziva wanted to head over early to see Jack and Gibbs anyway.” 

“How is she doing?” Sarah asked. “I mean, I haven’t wanted to ask her because I know this is part of the issue.” She pointed at her belly as she spoke. 

“Better,” Damon said. “How are you doing, now that the evil ex is finally gone for good?” 

Sarah thought about it for a minute. “I didn’t realize how much he was weighing on me until he walked away for good,” she said, finally. “He came in for coffee yesterday, and it was like the last year never happened. In a good way, I mean.”

“And Cooper?”

Sarah looked over at Damon as he drove. “I already have two big brothers,” she said. “I do not need any more.” 

He held up a hand, the other still on the wheel. “Not trying to be one,” he said. “But you haven’t been spending time with friends who aren’t Gibblets, and I thought you might want an ear that isn’t attached to a big brother.” 

Sarah sighed. “A lot of my friends aren’t in DC anymore,” she said. “And when I dropped out of hanging out with anybody last semester because I was studying and working and hiding from Evil Josh, nobody seemed to notice, so I didn’t see the point in staying in touch.” 

“And we’re all older than you, except Cooper,” Damon said. 

“If you listen to Tim, sometimes that depends on the day,” Sarah said, snickering. “But yeah, everybody’s already adults who know who they are and what they want and I’m still trying to figure out if I can find a way to write and pay the bills. Tim and Tony are helping for now, because of the baby, but I need to find my own way.” 

“Not all of us,” Damon said. “I like my new job, but it’s the third or fourth thing I’ve tried and who knows how long this will last. Ziva changed her path when she joined NCIS, so did Gibbs. All of us were older than you are now.” 

Sarah didn’t know the full story for any of them, but she knew enough to see the truth of what Damon was saying. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, then changed the subject. “At least Mom and Dad and Gibbs are hosting this, otherwise we’d probably be the ones dealing with it since we’re the ones in the house.” 

“Your brother mentioned something about a Game Night soon, but I think they were planning to host,” Damon said. “I wasn’t going to argue with that.” 

“No, definitely not,” Sarah said. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

Gibbs manned the grill as everybody gathered and relaxed in a way that hadn’t been possible for most of the summer. Even after Paloma had been captured, things had just been too tense, especially after that case the previous week that broke Ziva. 

He kept an eye on her, but she seemed more relaxed than before she went on leave, and comfortable with everybody, even McGee and Abby. She and McGee were on the same team in the volleyball game they were trying to play, and she bumped the ball up for McGee to spike it past Palmer’s head as their team widened their lead. At least, he was pretty sure they were ahead from watching. 

“Want a break, Boss?” Tony said as he walked up.

“Surprised you’re not out there,” Gibbs said. 

“Josh, McGee and Ziva against Palmer, Brad and Abby?” Tony said. “I’m going to get enough heckling material out of this to last me the rest of the year.” He paused. “It’s going to be weird not having Josh around the office.” 

“How’d it feel?” Gibbs asked. 

“How’d what feel?” Tony replied. 

“You recruited the kid, even if that wasn’t your intention,” Gibbs said. “Gave him somebody to look up to, and not just four years ago.” 

“I didn’t do anything special,” Tony said. 

“DiNozzo, take the compliment,” Gibbs said. “Ya did good.” 

“Thanks, Boss,” Tony said. He looked around. “So, the last thing he did this week was pull together a bunch of what he figured out about the cold cases into a file. Don’t worry, he worked with McHacker to make sure it only lives on a flash drive that’s encrypted with enough digital locks to keep out the digital version of Ziva.” 

Gibbs scanned the yard, but nobody was within earshot. “Anything interesting?” 

“Nothing definite, but enough to give us some leads to chase down,” Tony said, his voice low. 

“Patterns?” Gibbs asked. 

“Josh thought of that, too,” Tony said. “He and McGee worked together to build a file where we can plug in information about a case and it does some kind of magic and tells us what cases might fit the same criteria.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask me to explain it, because my eyes glazed over when McGenius started telling me about it, but it works, and Dwayne and I were able to use it without breaking it.” 

“That’s good work,” Gibbs said. “Listen, you find something, anything that points toward a person or a small group of people, you tell me.” 

Tony looked at him for a minute. “You know something,” he said. 

Gibbs shook his head, but let his mouth quirk up a bit. 

“See, I knew it,” Tony said. “This is another wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing.” 

Gibbs shrugged, but didn’t deny it. 

“We’re on it,” Tony said. “Well, we will be. Right now the only thing I’m on is another cheeseburger.” 

Gibbs moved one from the grill to a plate and Tony took it and headed back toward the seats under the trees in the yard. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

A whistle split the air, and Sarah looked up to see Gibbs pointing at Burley. Tim and Tony were standing a step behind him, big grins on their faces. 

“Oh, this can’t be good,” Josh said quietly. 

“Not with those smiles,” Sarah said. “Don’t worry, Tim won’t let Tony go too far.” 

“Yeah, you’ve never seen them tag-teaming an interrogation before,” Josh said. 

“Thanks, Boss,” Burley said. “Now, these aren’t official NCIS awards I’m about to hand out, since I’m not the director of NCIS.” 

“But he did tell me he was going to hand them out,” Vance said. 

“OK, now I’m really curious,” Sarah whispered. 

“Up here, is a select group. We’re the only people, until now, who have survived for at least five years on Gibbs’ team. Well, as long as you don’t count ulcers and concussions,” Burley said. 

“The concussions aren’t Gibbs’ fault,” Tim said. “Tony gets those all on his own.” 

Tony’s “Hey!” was barely audible over the laughter. 

“This fall, we have one more member of the 5-Year Club, and a new honorary member,” Burley said. “Ziva, of course, is the new member and from what I understand, she’s the most likely person to end up with the ultimate record, if only because she’s the youngest of the three people still crazy enough to work for the Boss.” 

“Hey, we resemble that remark,” Tony said. 

Sarah looked over to see Abby high-fiving Ziva, who was laughing along with the rest of them. 

“But we also thought we should grant honorary status to somebody in a class by himself,” Burley said. “When I got reassigned to the Navy Yard last week, I met somebody who I never believed could exist.

“Vampire?” Jimmy said. 

“Werewolf?” Abby added. 

“No, unicorn,” Ziva said. 

“Even rarer than that,” Burley said. “I met the only person who’s ever survived an internship with Gibbs.” 

Sarah looked over to see Josh’s ears matched his hair, but he was laughing, too. 

“Usually he even breaks baby agents,” Tony said. “When McGoo didn’t run screaming the first time he worked with us on a case, I knew he had potential and I was right.” 

“So, Josh, we think you deserve honorary status in the Five-Year Club, since it’s unofficially known as the ‘I worked with Gibbs and lived to tell about it’ Club,” Tim said. 

Burley held up two pieces of paper. “So come on up and get your awards, Josh and Ziva,” he said. 

Josh scrambled to his feet and headed up there, joined by Ziva, as everybody else clapped. 

Her mom leaned over, and said in a quiet voice, “So, when were you going to mention you’re dating the team’s intern?”

“We’re not dating,” Sarah said, careful to keep her voice just as quiet. “He’s a friend.” 

“A friend you’ve been flirting with since you got here,” her mom said. 

“Mom.” Sarah looked around, but Josh was still over in a clump with the team. “Look, we met at the coffee shop before we knew about the connection. And OK, maybe we’ve talked about it, once I stop being a blimp, but it’s just talk.” 

“If you say so,” she said. “Well, if he ever becomes more than a friend, at least your dad and I don’t have to worry, since he knows your brother carries a gun.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes. 

Her mom’s phone beeped. “Who’s texting me when you’re all here?” she said as she pulled it out of her pocket. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Sarah prompted when her mom didn’t say anything else. 

“I gave one of the women on my basketball team a ride to practice the other day because her car was still in the shop from earlier in the week and she left her water bottle in my car,” her mom said as she hit a button to call. “Jocelyn? Yes, come over whenever. The cookout’s still going strong, so just follow the sound of the commotion.” 

Sarah snickered. “Commotion?” she said after her mom had hung up.

“She hasn’t heard enough stories yet for me to say insanity,” her mom said. 

But as the volleyball game resumed, Sarah had a feeling this friend of her mom’s would show up, take one look at them all, and realize they were nuts. Damon bounced the ball off Jimmy’s shoulder, which Abby then volleyed over to hit Brad in the face. Ziva sent it sailing back over the net even as Ducky was calling for a medical time out and Tony was diving to keep the ball from hitting the ground, and he smashed into somebody’s legs and next thing Sarah knew, they were all in one giant tangle, including the director’s kids. 

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

After checking to make sure Jared and Kayla hadn’t been squashed in the pile of bickering agents after the volleyball game devolved, Vance took a slice of the babka he was sure Ziva had made and walked over to where she was sitting, a bit apart from the others. 

“You make this?” he asked. 

She nodded. “It is a … family recipe.” 

“It’s delicious is what it is,” Vance said. “Jackie had some, one time when we were in Europe on vacation, and was determined to make it herself, until she looked at a recipe and saw how involved it was.” 

“This is the first time I have made it since I was a child, helping Aunt Nettie,” Ziva said. “You are right, it is not a quick recipe, and before last week, I rarely had the time.” She cast her eyes to the ground. “You are hoping I will not have the time for much longer, are you not?” 

Vance waited until she was looking at him again. “You take the time you need,” he said. “No more, no less.” He waited until she nodded. “But there is one thing.” 

“Yes?” she asked. 

“There’s a chance that I’ll be seeing Eli soon, for a joint op,” he said. “Not definite, and if it does happen, possibly not until later in the fall.”

“You are not thinking of sending the team to Israel again? The last time, it did not go well.”

“No,” Vance replied. “After the impression DiNozzo left last time we visited, I think it’s safe to say that neither he nor Gibbs could get a visa to enter Israel.” 

Ziva remembered that moment, when her father realized what Tony had gotten him to admit while she was watching on video. “Yes, I believe you are right,” she said. “Tony and Gibbs would not be allowed into Israel, and my father never leaves. It is better that way.” 

“As I said, it might not pan out,” Vance said. “But I wanted you to know.” 

“He is your friend,” Ziva said. “Or at least, he is a useful ally.” She paused for a second. “You know Jenny and I worked together, before she became director.” 

“I do.” 

“We were friends,” Ziva said. “Even after she became, in a way, my director, we still considered ourselves friends. Even after Tony’s undercover op, when I realized she had almost sacrificed him to satisfy old ghosts, when I realized that in some areas, I could not trust her, I still considered her a friend, even if one I was no longer close to. I understand, director, that you and my father were friends, and likely still are friends.” She paused. “I understand.” 

He searched her face, but she seemed relaxed, if a bit wistful. “He might be a friend, but you’re one of my people now,” he said. “I’m not Gibbs, but in this, I agree with him. We protect our people.”

Ziva nodded. “That is why when I had to choose, I chose NCIS,” she said. “My father, he believes in his country, above all.” 

“You don’t think Gibbs would describe himself the same way, loyal Marine that he is?” Vance asked. 

“Gibbs believes, but he also cares about the impact of his actions,” Ziva said. “Eli is aware of what he does. Not caring about the consequences is what makes him who he is. It is why he who once had three children now really has none.” She looked around the yard. “He made his choice, and I… I have made mine. I choose mishpacha, family, over country.” She lifted her chin, just a fraction. “If he chooses to change his priorities, that is his choice. But I have no message for him, and I do not think he will have one for me.”

“And if he does?” Vance asked. 

“I will listen,” Ziva said. “I do not, cannot, promise forgiveness, but if he has something to say, I will listen.” 

Vance nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to bring this up, but I figured better that you be aware than for something to come up as a surprise later.” 

But after he’d finished his conversation and turned away from Ziva, Vance vowed to do whatever he could to keep what might come from being another chance for Ziva to be disappointed by her father.

**~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~**

McGee sat on the porch railing, cheering as Gibbs and Vance faced off against Tony and his mom. Jimmy, Abby and Josh were cheering for both sides equally, but everybody else had picked a side, and Brad was refereeing. Sarah was sitting on the porch steps, but Josh was next to McGee. As if that was going to keep Tony from making comments. Josh really should know better by now. 

Vance blocked Tony’s drive to the basket, but he went up anyway, arcing the ball over the director’s head before they both went crashing to the pavement. 

“Charge!” Gibbs called. 

“No way,” his mom retorted. “That was too close to the net to be a charge.” 

They squared up as Brad and Ducky looked over the other two and Ducky called to Palmer to get the first aid kit from his Morgan. 

“No need,” his dad said. “We’ve got one inside.” 

“Ducky, it’s just a couple of scrapes,” Tony said. 

“Yes, and you’re going to let me wash out the dirt and bandage them,” the medical examiner said. “You too, director.” 

The debate over the call had gotten even more heated. 

“OK, your mom isn’t scared of Gibbs,” Josh said in a low voice. “That’s … kind of intimidating.” 

“Good,” McGee said. He suppressed a smirk. “Hey Brad, does the referee have an opinion?” 

Before Brad could answer a car pulled up and a woman got out. 

“Is that the ex-wife we haven’t met?” Ziva asked in a low tone. “She looks familiar.” 

McGee frowned. She did, but he couldn’t place her. “Well, since we haven’t met Ex Number One, how could she look familiar?” he said back, keeping his voice quiet enough that Gibbs hopefully wouldn’t hear. 

But the woman stopped at his parents’ walk. 

“Can I help you?” McGee asked her. 

As he did, his dad returned with the first aid kit. “Jocelyn, right?” he said. “Your water bottle’s inside. Let me just hand this off.” 

“I’ll do it,” Josh said, hopping down from the railing and heading over to the driveway where Tony and Vance were on their feet arguing, despite the scuffs on their knees and a trickle of blood running down Tony’s elbow. 

As the woman walked up to the porch, Sarah said, “Tim, this is one of Mom’s basketball teammates. She left her water bottle in Mom’s car.” She turned to the woman. “I’m Sarah, and this is my brother, Tim.” 

“The one at NCIS,” Jocelyn replied. “I think we met, a few years back.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, you wouldn’t remember me. I only know because Jethro was explaining the other night after he fixed my car. It wasn’t a case. He was just sorting out a possible mix-up with my husband’s ashes.”

McGee suddenly remembered that case. “Oh, right. The one where the director was punishing him.” He looked at Ziva. “You remember, the one with Epsilon Corporation, where Gibbs and some of the other agents had to confirm that all the paperwork was done correctly on the remains and Abby had to test them.” 

Before Ziva could reply, the argument on the court caught their attention. “Director, if you keep playing, your knee will be unable to scab over,” Ducky said. 

“We’re ahead, that means we win,” Gibbs said. 

“No way, Boss. You guys are forfeiting, which means we win,” Tony said. “Unless you get a sub for the director to finish the game.” 

Josh stepped back up on the porch. “I’m not getting in the middle of that,” he said. 

“You’re not going to volunteer to play with Gibbs so he doesn’t have to forfeit?” McGee said, not even trying to hide his smirk. 

“I don’t see you stepping up to volunteer,” Josh shot back. 

“That’s because Gibbs has seen him play,” Sarah said, snickering. “He’d be better off playing solo.” 

“Hey!” McGee said. 

“I’m sorry, Jocelyn, I promise they don’t normally fight like 10-year-olds,” his dad said as he returned with the water bottle. 

“Yes they do,” chorused Ziva, Damon and Josh. 

“No other basketball players in the group?” Jocelyn asked. 

“Vance isn’t even one,” McGee said. “He just volunteered so we had even teams.”

“Yes, he is a boxer,” Ziva said. “And quite a good one, as I understand.” 

“Brad plays, but nobody’s willing to let him and Tony be on the same team, and the last time they played on different teams, Brad broke Tony’s leg,” McGee said. 

The players had noticed the new addition and were looking over. 

“Jocelyn, you have time to stay for a game?” his mom called over. 

“Sure,” she said. “Jethro, you mind me subbing in?” 

He held up his hands. “You’re a better ballplayer than me. I’m not about to turn down that help.” 

Jocelyn joined the others in the driveway. 

“10 minute cookie break to let the sub warm up,” Brad called. 

“I am not moving,” Sarah said. 

“I’ll go,” Josh said. “Chocolate chip?” 

“Josh, why don’t you just grab a plate for all of us,” McGee said. He lowered his voice. “Ziva, Damon, get Abby, Jimmy and Tony and meet me in the living room.” 

“Something wrong?” his dad asked. 

“Nope,” McGee said. “Just something work-related. Nothing big.” 

“I’ll get it out of you later,” he said, and headed over to the driveway. 

Within two minutes, the rest of the Gibblets were gathered in the house. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked. 

“Jocelyn, Mom’s friend. Also known as the widow of Capt. Parker Wayne. You guys remember the human chop shop case?” 

“Oh!” Ziva said. “Epsilon. Sean Oliver.”

“Yeah, that one,” McGee said. “And be careful what you say. Remember what we found in the cooler? Gibbs didn’t tell her what was going on with her husband’s ashes, or not ashes. He made up some story about a paperwork mixup.” 

“Gibbs and Dr. Mallard made sure to get her husband’s remains cremated and back to her, even though it was evidence,” Jimmy said. “I remember when they disappeared to handle it.” 

“So we need to forget that case and all the details so we don’t have to tell her now,” Tony said. “Good thinking, McLogic.” 

“Easy enough,” Damon said. “I don’t know any details anyway.” 

“That is probably best,” Ziva said. “It was not a good case.” 

“Are they ever?” McGee asked. 

“How does Gibbs know she plays basketball better than he does?” Jimmy asked. 

“That is an excellent question,” Tony said. “I have an even better one. Is she going to be the future fourth ex-wife?”


End file.
